Dirty Deeds
by MishaMuse
Summary: Michelle McCool bets she can make Matt Hardy fall for her before Wrestlemania. She doesn't expect to actually care about him. Michelle's in over her head, and her friends are making everything worse. 1st person/MM's POV
1. Nice Guys Finish Last

**A/N: I don't own anyone in this story except for the OCs, including Tara and her family. I also want to say that, via Twitter and other research, I know that my characterizations of many of the Divas and Superstars, particularly team Lay-Cool, are not how they are in real life. It's all in good fun, folks. :) **

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 1: Nice Guys Finish Last

People often ask why bad things happen to good people. They wonder about bad people having all the luck. I'm here to tell you, it's not luck. Heroes are generally unwilling to do whatever is necessary to succeed in this world. They won't pull down the weak and climb over their bodies to get what they want. They're noble and well liked. They're also not the ones wearing the gold around their waists, most of the time. I've been told all my life that nice guys finish last. I've seen the proof with my own eyes, time and time again. I came to the WWE, knowing that I would be a heel. I didn't want to be someone who was cheered for; I wanted to be a winner. To me, those are mutually exclusive. So I don't care if you're booing me. I don't care if you think I'm a nasty character. I'm smart and I'm beautiful and best of all, I'm a winner.

Sometimes you get guys like CM Punk, who don't realize nice guys finish last. They try really hard to be a hero. I could have told you years ago that he was going to end up as a villain. Despite everything he's done to try and save people from themselves, he ends up being the most hated on the roster. And who do the people love? Jeff Hardy. Where is Jeff Hardy now? Broken down, fighting a massive legal battle and praying that he can keep wrestling with a fifth rate company. And he's there because of CM Punk.

Not just the "loser leaves" scenario that you may have seen on TV. He's there because Punk knows a guy who will do favors for you, if you have enough money and more ambition. Someone who is connected. That drug bust seemed kind of convenient, didn't it? Interesting timing. It wasn't a coincidence, I'll tell you that much. You don't cross a guy who knows people and expect to get away undamaged. Hardy should have known better.

###

"Maria's my valentine." I roll my eyes when I hear Matt Hardy's words coming from the monitor. He's worse than his brother when it comes to wanting to be a good guy. The man's so sweet and pathetic, and he seems genuinely hung up on Maria. Maria, of all people! Just the thought makes me want to snarl.

"Michelle?" Layla says. "You've got that look on your face again."

If I hadn't caught the reflection of my face in the glare of the TV, I might not have believed her. Layla's a ditz, but she's willing to do whatever I say, which makes her useful.

"Maria's his valentine," I say, mockingly. "That's sooo sweet!" I roll my eyes, and Layla laughs.

"At least they're suited to one another," she says. "Neither one of them can win a match. It's like watching Chavo fight Hornswoggle!"

"Ugh!" If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a match between Hornswoggle and Chavo. It was funny the first time. The twentieth time? Not so much. Layla smirks because she knows what I'm thinking. She ought to; I swear, I said it at least five times a day when the WWE was working that Hornswoggle/Chavo angle to death.

"I hate Maria," Layla mutters finally, when it's been quiet for too long.

"Me too," I said. I keep thinking about her and Dolph and how I couldn't pry the two of them apart. They're finally apart, and Dolph hasn't been worth a damn since. He's not even a contender anymore. Too bad, too, because he's not a goody goody like Matt Hardy. Still… I contemplate the screen. "What do you think of Matt Hardy?"

Layla scrunches up her face at me. "Seriously? He's a loser. At least Jeff got the title before he crashed and burned."

I shrug. "You may be right."

"Uh oh. Girl, I know that look. We're flawless, Michelle, and he's not. Besides, he's too much of a nice guy to dump Maria, especially for you."

I feel a grin spreading across my lips. "Mm. You may be right." I stare at him on the screen. Matt's pulled out a win for his team. Yay? "But he does have potential." I turn and meet her eyes. "How much do you want to bet that I'll have him eating out of my hand by Wrestlemania?"


	2. Congrats

A/N: Here's the disclaimer. I don't own the wrestlers. I do own the OCs. Thanks!

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 2: Congrats

Of course Layla takes the bet. Layla always takes the bet, even if she thinks I'll win. Partly because that's what best friends do, and partly because, either way, it will mean weeks of entertainment for both of us. There's something different about it this time, though. Layla's eyes are sparkling, and she's looking at me like she thinks maybe this time, I'll lose. It's been ages since I had a challenge like this. I watch the match between the Hart Dynasty and Matt Hardy, who is tag teaming with the Great Khali. Matt pulls the win out, which Layla applauds with a sarcastic "Yay!"

I laugh. "It's always nice to see the hero triumph over the villain, right?"

"I'm just wondering, why are you wasting your time?" she asks. "I mean, even when he wins, he's a loser. He's tagging with Khali, for pity's sake!"

I turn the screen off while I consider the question. "Because I want to."

"Is this about Maria again?"

"Please. She's not even in my league!"

Layla smirks. "You know, Michelle, you can deny it all you want, but first you went after Dolph and now you're going after Matt. You wouldn't have shown any interest at all in either of them if it hadn't been for Maria."

The problem with having a best friend who knows you so well is that they can sometimes know you _too_ well. "It's not about Maria."

"Suuure."

"Okay, fine. It's not _entirely_ about Matt. Some of it is about Maria. But most of it is about Matt." I can tell she doesn't believe me, even though it's the truth. Sure, part of me is irked that Maria seems to be a golden girl who can do no wrong right now. She won Diva of the Year, which is irritating. What did she do last year, aside from sucking up valuable screen time with Dolph Ziggler? I should have been Diva of the Year. I am a champion. Maria is a loser.

Layla rolls her eyes at me, then stands up. "Come on. You should probably go separate your new conquest and his valentine. They're probably lip locking, even as we speak."

"I'm not too worried about it," I say, but I get up and follow her out into the hall, anyway. Outside of our locker room, it's noisy. I can hear Chris Jericho's intro music in the arena, over the sound of Edge talking.

"You only have a month and a half until Wrestlemania," Layla says. She stops, spying Matt and Maria in conversation down the hall a moment before I do. "And they look pretty cozy already."

What she says is true. Matt's leaning close to Maria and seems to be getting closer by the minute. I push past Layla and head for the pair. "Nice match out there, Matt," I say, smiling.

Matt looks confused. "Uh, thanks, Michelle." He looks down at Maria, who is staring at me like I tried to steal her man or something. Oh, wait…

"Do you need something?" she asks. I continue to smile, but I ignore Maria.

"Just wanted to say congratulations on the win."

"Thanks," Matt says again.

I nod. "Have a good night." I turn and head back toward Layla, a smirk already forming on my lips as I hear Matt ask Maria, "What the hell was _that_ all about?" Her reply is too soft for me to catch.

"That looked like it went well," Layla says.

"Better than I expected it to. Don't worry, though. A month and a half should be just fine. I do love a challenge."


	3. What Do Nice Guys Like, Anyway?

A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated. :) I don't own anything except the storyline and the OCs.

A/N: I'm going to stick with using "ring" names to keep this less confusing for me.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 3: What Do Nice Guys Like, Anyway?

As much fun as it was to leave Matt and Maria confused, I knew Layla was right. I'm going to have to step up my game if I want to win this bet. I don't have a lot of experience with nice guys; I'm more used to guys who will do anything to get what they want. That's how I find myself knocking on a certain straight-edge superstar's door half an hour later. Punk looks disheveled and grungy and NOT flawless. He also looks confused.

"McCool?" he asks, frowning at me. "What do you want?"

"I need to ask you something." He tilts his head, and I take a deep breath. "It's going to sound stupid, but… what do nice guys like?"

"What do… what?" Punk asks, blinking at me. "Why are you asking me this?"

"You used to be a nice guy. I thought you might have some insight."

He stares at me, suspicious. "What are you up to?"

Hmm, the truth, or a lie? "I'm interested in someone…"

"Poor guy," he mutters.

I ignore the comment. "And he's a really nice guy, and I… uh, have no idea how to get him interested in me. Especially if he's going to insist on behaving irrationally and being nice to everyone he meets."

"Look, McCool, the best advice I can give you is to find someone else who is more in line with… well, you."

"That doesn't help!"

Punk smirks at me. "Just move on."

This is not going well. "I can't. Layla and I have this bet going…"

"Ah!" He laughs, the jerk! "I knew it had to be something. Who's the poor sap? Anyone I know?"

"Matt Hardy," I mutter.

And now he's staring at me. "Is this about Maria?"

"Why do people keep asking me that?" I glare at him. "No, it's not about Maria, okay? It's about…" I pause. "I have no idea what it's about. Layla picked him." Okay, it's a lie. So what?

Punk doesn't look convinced. "Mm. Whatever. We probably shouldn't discuss this in the hallway. Why don't you come in?" I debate the matter, then shrug. It's not like being seen going into Punk's room will hurt my reputation—or his. I slip through the door, ignoring his smirk. Punk closes the door and turns to me. "I have to ask," he continues, heading deeper into the room, "hasn't Hardy suffered enough?"

"I'll ignore that," I say, "because I really do need to know about nice guys."

"And you came to me, which is sad if you think about it."

"I'm trying not to think about it, Punk."

"Right. Nice guys. Well, it is Hardy. You could ask him out for a beer or something." He scrunches up his nose. "I think he likes that kind of thing. And being drunk might lower his natural distaste for you enough to—" He pauses. "You get the idea."

I get the idea, all right, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. "Great, that's a start. What else?"

"Honestly? He's not even going to look at you with Maria in the picture. He's too much of a nice guy to do it. Besides, he seems to like her." Punk stares at me. "So if it were me, I'd find a way to make the diva of the year disappear."

I smirk. "Sure, and then he finds out that I had her fired and he hates me. That's not going to get me anywhere."

"How's he going to find out?" Punk asks. "You're sneaky enough to cover your tracks, McCool." He slings an arm around my shoulder and grins at me.

"Ugh." I push him away. "You really should shave that horrible beard, Punk. You look like you're growing a demented Furby on your face."

He chuckles. "Serena thinks it's cute."

"Serena has no hair, and she hangs out with you and Festus. I don't think anyone will be calling her for hairstyling tips anytime soon."

"Are you sure you want Hardy?" he asks me again, tilting his head like an overgrown dog.

"Positive," I say.

"Then you've got a lot of work to do."


	4. Running Into Matt

A/N: I own the OCs. I don't own the wrestlers. Too bad, really. I like the wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 4: Running Into Matt

After leaving Punk's room, I take a long walk. It's weird being out of the hotel without any of my friends. Usually, Layla and I go shopping or we hang out by the pool and make fun of the rest of the roster. Up until this week, both Matt and Maria have been frequent targets. I'm not in the mood to make fun of anyone today, though; not with Wrestlemania looming in just over a month. Our hotel is across the street from this cute little park with lots of walking trails. Normally, I'd ignore something like that, but it's too tempting to pass up this time.

I'm in my own little world, thinking over the Matt and Maria problem when someone slams into me with the force of a train. I manage a startled, "Hey!" and then I'm on the ground, staring up at a very flustered Matt Hardy.

"Are you all right?" he asks, holding his hand out to me.

I stare at him for a long moment, then take his hand. "Sure. Uh, but if you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was come up and say hi. No need to run me down."

His skin turns an interesting shade of red. "I didn't see you." He pulls me up, then leans down to pick up a huge box. He must have dropped it when we ran into one another.

"What is that?" I ask.

Matt's voice is muffled behind the box. "Canned food."

"Well, that explains why it felt like getting hit by a truck."

"Sorry," Matt says.

"Where are you taking it?"

He shifts the box so he can see a little better. "I heard there was a food bank in the area that was having some trouble. I thought I'd help them out."

Does this guy ever quit being good? I sigh. "You're going to get run over or something. Let me help you."

"Really?" He looks skeptical.

"Sure. I'm all for helping the food bank."

"Uh, okay." Matt smiles at me. He is kind of cute. Wait, did I just think that? I smirk and take his arm, leading him in the direction I'd just come from. "Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome. So where's this food bank at, anyway?"

"Er, well. It's across town. I was just taking the box to my car…"

"Gotcha," I say with a smile. "I'll help you get to the car, and then you can be on your way."

"You can come with me, if you want."

I surprised at the offer. "Oh. Um. Isn't Maria coming with you?"

"She can't. She's got some kind of photo shoot. We're having dinner after tonight's house show. So do you want to come with me?"

"Sure," I say, smiling. "Sounds like fun."

Matt looks really confused, but he nods. We make it across the street and into the hotel's parking lot with no more incidents. I lead Matt to his car and he sets the box down beside it before opening the door. Together, we manage to shove the box into the backseat. "Whew, that was heavy."

"Why did you put the cans in a box, anyway?"

"The guy at the grocery store was going to bag them, but I thought a box would be easier to carry," he says.

"Guess you didn't account for needing a guidance system on that thing."

"I didn't," he agrees, "but you made a great guidance system."

My cheeks grow warm. "Thanks," I mutter.

Matt grins, then climbs into the car and unlocks the passenger door for me. I slide into the car, self conscious. When he turns the key, the radio blasts out something loud. Matt hurriedly turns it down and looks at me. "Sorry. Shane must have turned it up last night, because I don't remember it being that loud."

I chuckle. "I never remember it being loud when I get in my car."

"Yeah." He pulls into traffic, glancing at me. "Hey, Michelle? Can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?" I'm not looking at him. I'm not sure I can look at him.

"What's the deal with you lately?'

"What do you mean?"

"A couple of weeks ago, you were yelling, 'Loser alert!' when I walked by you…" Oh, God, I'd pushed that out of my head. "and now, you're being… nice."

"Er." I look out the window. "I don't know. I just thought maybe… we could talk."

"About what? Aside from our jobs, we don't have a damned thing in common."

"How do you know?" I finally look at him. "We've never had an actual conversation."

"Probably because every time I get near you, you make a snide comment." Ouch.

"It's hard to explain."

"Try anyway."

He's watching the road, but I can see he's also watching me from the corner of his eye. "I'm not sure I can put it into words." Matt sighs. "Let me think on it, and I'll see if I can explain it."

"All right." He glances at me, then turns the radio up a little. Not enough to hinder the conversation, if I want to continue it, but enough so that the silence that is descending on the car feels less awkward. I'm left to consider what I want to say for the rest of the ride.


	5. A Good Deed

A/N: I own the OCs but not the wrestlers. Vince McMahon owns them, and he won't share. :(

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 5: A Good Deed

The food bank is housed in a dingy little building. I honestly have no idea how Matt found the place. It's tucked away in a shopping center that has maybe two open shops, outside of the food bank. The lot has older cars, surrounding the building that's marked, "Heaven's Helpers." I follow Matt out of the car, locking my door behind me. He pulls the big box from the backseat, and heads for the door. I manage to get there before he does, and pull the door open for him. He sets the box down on the floor near an old desk and turns to the surprised woman behind it. "We're here to make a donation."

While Matt's talking to the lady behind the desk, I take in the office. It's bigger than I expected, with a warren of offices behind the desk and leading down the back hall. There's a connecting room that leads to the actual food bank near the door. I'm about to turn around when I hear a shriek that sounds something like my name, and a fast little missle launches itself at me. I'm nearly bowled over by a girl who can't be more than six. She's tiny and scrawny and she's hugging my waist like there's no tomorrow. Her mother is standing in the doorway to the food bank, looking dismayed.

"You've made a friend, Michelle," Matt says, amused. He and the lady at the desk have turned to watch me with the little girl.

"It really is you!" the little girl says, looking up at me with tears in her eyes.

"Tara," her mother says. "Let that poor woman go." She gives me an apologetic look. "She's not usually like this."

"It's all right," I say. "I don't mind." And weirdly enough, I really don't mind.

"You're my favorite diva," Tara says to me. "Simply Flawless!"

I chuckle at that. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Tara."

Her eyes are huge as she turns to her mom and says, "Mom! Michelle McCool knows my name."

"Don't be stupid, Tara. That isn't Michelle McCool," says a boy's voice, and I look up to see an eight year old, glaring at me. "Why would someone like that come here?"

"I'm not stupid!" Tara says. She looks up at me. "Tell Tony you're really her. Tell him you're Michelle McCool."

Before I can, Matt turns away from the desk and says to the boy, "She's really Michelle McCool, and I'm Matt Hardy."

Tony stares at Matt, then looks at me. Back to Matt. Then his jaw drops in disbelief. "Holy crap!"

"Tony!" his mom scolds.

"Sorry, mom. But… but… That's Matt Hardy and Michelle McCool! My friends are never gonna believe this!"

I look over at Matt and grin. He's grinning back at me. "How about a picture?" he asks.

"Fine with me," I say.

"I don't have a camera," says the kids' mom, apologetic.

"No problem," Matt says. "I've got one." He pulls out a slim digital model and asks the lady at the desk, "Would you mind taking a picture?"

"Sure," she says, smiling at us. Matt pulls Tara and I over to the chairs near the wall. I sit down and Tara drops into my lap with a giggle. Matt's beside me, with Tony on the other side of him. "Say cheese!" says the lady from the desk, and she snaps the picture. We take three of them, just to make sure there's a good shot in there. In the last one, Tara has her arms around my neck.

"There's a place around the corner that will let me develop these into snapshots," Matt says to Tara and Tony's mom as he takes the camera back from the lady at the desk. "Will you stay here for a bit longer so we can get them developed?"

"All right," she says.

Matt turns to me. "Come on, Michelle."

"I'll see you in a little while," I say to Tara with a smile.


	6. Something's Developing, All Right

A/N: I don't own the wrestlers. I do own the OCs. :)

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 6: Something's Developing, All Right

Turns out there really is a place not too far from Heaven's Helpers that lets us get the pictures developed. Matt makes four copies of all three pictures, and in no time, we're on our way back to the food bank. Tara is pacing near the door when we return. "I wasn't sure you were coming back," she whispers to me, as she attaches herself to my waist again. I feel a lump in my throat at the words.

"I said I'd be back," I tell her softly.

"Sometimes people don't come back when they say they will." She looks up at me, big brown eyes full of tears again, and my heart is breaking.

Matt, who'd come straight in and went to the desk, hands me six pictures- two copies of each one- and a skinny black marker. I can see he's already signed them. "I'm going to sign your pictures, Tara," I say to her, and she smiles.

"Mom, can we put the pictures on my wall?"

"Sure," her mom says. She's watching Matt and I with a curious expression on her face. "But maybe you should let the nice lady go so she can sign your pictures, Tara."

Tara lets go of me reluctantly, and I take the pictures over to the desk, so I can sign them. When I'm done, I wave them to dry the ink before handing them over to Tara and Tony. "Thank you," Tony says. He seems much more subdued now.

"Thank you," Tara echoes. She stares at the pictures, then looks at her brother. "See? I told you she wasn't mean like she plays on TV."

Matt grins. "Nope, Michelle's really, secretly nice."

I stick my tongue out at Matt, which makes him and Tara laugh. "You two are going to ruin my reputation in the WWE."

"We can hope," Matt says.

I turn to Tony and Tara's mom, who has been quiet through much of this. "Your kids are really sweet."

"Thank you," she says, glancing at the two of them. They've dragged Matt off to sit on the floor with them, and he seems to be telling them some kind of story. "I'm sorry about Tara jumping on you like that."

"It's fine," I say. "Um. I was wondering… We're doing this house show tonight, and we'd love for you and the kids to come. And you can bring your husband, too, of course."

"I don't have a husband anymore," she says, her eyes snapping from the kids to me. "And I can't really afford to buy tickets to that kind of thing."

"Don't worry about tickets," I say. "They give us plenty. Will you come?"

She frowns and looks at her kids and Matt, then back to me. "Can I bring my older son, too?"

"Of course! Just tell me how many tickets you need and I'll be sure they're waiting for you at the box office tonight. I'll even get you and the kids backstage after the show, to meet more of the Superstars."

"Six tickets? I've got a couple of nephews…"

"Their parents can come too, if you want. I'll have the box office hold eight tickets for you. What's your name?"

She hesitates. "Marissa Benton."

I take the pen and write that down on a slip of paper so I won't forget it. "Got it," I say. "See you guys tonight." I turn away, intending to give the pen back to the desk lady, but Marissa touches my arm. I turn back to her, curious.

"Thank you," she says. "It will mean a lot to the kids to go to the show. Tony watches wrestling all the time. He'd heard it was in town this week, and he really wanted to go, but I just couldn't…" She takes a deep, shuddery breath. "I hate seeing my kids disappointed, but ever since their dad walked out on us, there hasn't been money for extra stuff."

I pat Marissa's hand. "You're welcome." She smiles at me, and I smiles back. "But now I'd better go drag Matt away. We've got to get ready for work." She nods to me, and I walk over to Matt and the kids.

"…And then he said, 'Help! The Undertaker is after me!'" Matt concludes, and he and both the kids start cracking up.

"Um," I say with a smile, "I hate to interrupt, but we need to get going, Matt. We've got work to do."

Matt sighs. "I suppose you're right. Are you guys coming to the show tonight?"

Tony's face falls. "I wish we could, but we can't afford to."

I look over at his mom. "Well, actually," she says, hesitantly, "Ms. McCool offered us tickets for tonight."

Matt looks at me, his eyebrows rising. "She did?"

I blush. "Yes."

"Yay!" Tara says, flinging herself at me. "I get to come see you tonight!"

I laugh and hug her. "You sure do! Just stay behind the barricades, okay? I don't want you to get hurt."

"But you'll say hi to me?"

"I'll wave to you," I say with a smile.

"Me too," Matt promises. "But we have to get going now. You two behave and we'll see you tonight." We hug Tara and Tony, then head out the door. "That was a nice thing you did in there," Matt says, as we get into his car.

I shrug. "Seemed like the least I could do, considering."

"You're full of surprises, McCool."

"Thanks, Hardy. I try."


	7. Return Trip

A/N: Things I own in this fic: the OCs and the storyline. Things I don't own in this fic: the Wrestlers. Bummer.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 7: Return Trip

We get back to the hotel with no incident. Matt's been quiet pretty much the whole way. Once the car is parked, he turns to me. "I haven't forgotten about my question."

I turn in my seat so that I can look at him. "Which question's that?"

"What's gotten into you lately?"

"Oh. That question." I close my eyes, not wanting to meet his gaze as I talk. "I had a really good day with you, Matt."

"Me too," he says. "And it was sweet of you to give those kids tickets to tonight's show. But that still doesn't answer the question."

"Have you ever woke up and been afraid to look in the mirror?" I ask. Matt's quiet, so I open my eyes and look at him. He's giving me a suspicious look. "What?"

"Is this some kind of trap?" he asks. "Where I say something, and then you make a snide comment about how I should be afraid to look in a mirror?"

"No!" I say. "God. Am I really that awful?"

"Usually, yeah."

I sigh. "I want to be a better person, Matt, but it's hard. I've never been someone who cared what anyone else thought of me. I didn't want to be liked. But sometimes, when I'm alone, I feel so… empty. Like if I died tomorrow, no one would care about me. The rest of the company would shrug and go on with their lives. If something happened to you, they'd mourn. But me?" I shook my head.

"Maybe if you weren't such a shallow bitch all the time," he said.

I gawked at him. "Did you just call me a bitch?"

"A shallow bitch," he said.

"Nice to know that's what you think of me."

"Well, I did until today." He frowns at me. "But you took the time to come with me to the food bank and you were so sweet with Tara. I've never seen that side of you, Michelle. I doubt many people have."

I doubt it, too, since it didn't really exist before today. But something about Matt Hardy- nice, sweet Matt Hardy- calling me a bitch makes me want… something. I don't even know what it is, just that there's a sense of longing in my chest, a feeling that's been growing since Tara wrapped herself around my waist and refused to let go. Matt and I were a team today, and it felt good. "I suppose."

"You should show it more often." He seems oblivious to my inner turmoil, which is good. I want to scream at him, Matt Hardy, what are you doing to me? But that's not a good idea, because he won't know the answer, and it will only make this all the more confusing. He's still looking at me. "We should go in. There's still a lot to do before the show tonight."

"Yeah." And as much as what he's saying makes sense, I don't want to go. The second we get out of the car, things will go back to normal between us. "Hey Matt, do you think we could ever be… friends?"

Matt smiles at me. "Before today, I'd have said no way in hell. But now? Yeah, I think maybe we can." He gets out of the car, and I follow suit. "I had a nice time today."

"Me too."

"Don't forget about those tickets."

"I won't."

We're both standing there, staring at one another like idiots. "Well. Better get going."

"Yeah."

"Maybe we can do this again sometime."

"Sure," I say, "but next time, let's skip the part where you try to kill me in the park, okay?"

Matt laughs. "No promises, but I'll try. See you tonight, Michelle." And then he turns and walks away, leaving me next to the car.

"Bye," I mutter, staring after him. All I'd wanted was a walk in the park to clear my head and make things easier in my bet with Layla. What I'd gotten, though, was a day with Matt Hardy where we'd clicked. You'd think that would make things easier, wouldn't you? It hadn't. I used to think he was a loser, someone contemptible that I could make fun of. Now, though, I was starting to think we might possibly be friends someday.


	8. It Stands For

A/N: I own the OCs. I don't own the wrestlers! Sometimes I pretend like I do, though. ;P

A/N: I should never be allowed to write when I'm exhausted. Poor innocent characters like C. M. Punk suffer for it. :D

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 8: It Stands For…

I've never asked for show tickets before, so the guys who run the box office are surprised to see me. "I need to reserve some tickets for some friends of mine," I say, before passing along Marissa's name and the number of tickets I needed. When I'm sure that my new friends will be taken care of, I head for the back. There's always so much to do, even at a house show. I've got a lot on my mind, which is how I find myself suddenly among the Straightedge Society backstage.

"Are you all right, McCool?" Punk asks me. "You haven't been doing drugs, have you?"

"I'm fine," I say, frowning at him. "I just need to get to my locker room and get ready for the show."

Luke Gallows and Serena both look to Punk, waiting. He seems to sense their anxiousness. They remind me of small, yappy dogs, looking to the slightly bigger yappy dog for guidance. Punk sighs. "We really need to talk."

"I said I'm fine."

He shrugs and takes my arm. "Then let me walk you to your locker room." He turns back to his disciples. "Stay here. Keep an eye out." They nod in unison, like some kind of creepy bobbleheaded dolls. I allow Punk to lead me away because right now, it's easier than the alternative. "You know I was kidding about getting Hardy drunk, right?" he asks in a low tone, when we're out of earshot of the rest of the Straightedge Society. "I don't advocate drinking in any way, shape or form."

I roll my eyes. "Yes, Punk, I know you were kidding. And don't worry, I wasn't planning on taking that advice, anyway."

"Good," he says with a nod, dropping my arm. "I would hate for it to get around that I was telling people to get drunk…"

"That's what you were worried about? Me telling someone that you suggested I get him drunk?"

C. M. Punk shrugged. "A man is only as good as people perceive him to be, McCool. And I'm better than that comment."

I smile. "Don't worry about it. I'm not going to say anything. Your secret is safe with me, Cuddle Monkey."

Punk stares at me. "Cuddle Monkey?"

"Hey, you stick random letters on the front of your name, and I'm going to make up something for them to stand for, since you won't tell me what they really stand for."

He sighs. "Fine. Just don't call me that in public, okay? It's humiliating."

I smirk and hug him. "Poor Cuddle Monkey." We stop in front of my locker room. "Well, this is me."

"Oh, thank God," he mutters. "Don't forget…"

"Yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah, straightedge is awesome," I say with a wave. "See you later, Cuddle Monkey."

Punk walks away, grumbling and I let myself into my locker room. Layla's already there, pacing the floor. "Oh my God, Michelle!" she says, rushing to me when I step inside. "Are you okay? I've been looking for you all day!"

"I'm fine."

"I called you like twenty times, and I must have texted you at least fifty. Where have you been?"

"With Matt Hardy," I say in my most casual tone.

Layla stares at me. "You're kidding!"

"No. We went to a food bank to take some canned goods… why are you looking at me like that?"

Layla's nose is scrunched up. "A food bank? You spent the day with Matt Hardy and you went to a food bank? Why?"

"Because he asked me if I wanted to go?"

"I don't know how you swung that, but good job. So are you going to be ready in time for Wrestlemania?"

"Yeah." Even as I say the word, I can feel doubt coiling in my stomach. I spent the best day I've had in months hanging out with Matt and doing something nice for someone else. Even so, a bet's a bet, and I hate to lose. "I'll be ready."

"Good." Layla smirks. "Looks like loverboy and his valentine are on the card with Khali again tonight." She rolls her eyes. "Are you going to go out and be ringside?"

"Please. Why would I be?" I say.

"Because you want him to wonder?"

"Good point." But even as I say it, I know that the last place I want to be is front and center, watching him with Maria. I already don't like her; seeing them together in the ring will make me hate her even more. "I do have a special fan coming in to see me. I'm going to give her and her family a tour of the backstage after the show."

"Some kind of Make a Wish kid or something?"

"Just a girl I met today at the food bank."

Layla frowns. "What is going on with you, Michelle? First you blow off shopping to talk to Punk, then you disappear for the day and I find out you're with Hardy, and now you're going to hang out with some random kid and her family after the show? That's so not the Michelle I know."

I want to tell her, Maybe you should know her. Maybe this Michelle is who I want to be. Instead, I say, "I've only got a few weeks to convince Hardy I'm worthwhile. This makes it easier."

That makes her smile. "Ah, gotcha. You're playing the game. Good one."

There may be a game being played, I reflect, but at this point, I have no idea what it is and I'm completely in the dark when it comes to the rules.


	9. House Show

A/N:Disclaimers are fun, yay! :) I own the OCs. I don't own the wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 9: House Show

I'm booked to win my fight against Mickie James tonight, with Layla ringside. Matt's up before I am, though, so I'm backstage, watching the action in my dressing room. I grin when the camera pans the crowd and I see a shot of Tara and her family. I'm glad to see they made it. Matt's team is victorious, meaning that Maria bounds into the ring and gives him a kiss. Ugh. Matt smiles at her, and then they're rolling out of the ring. Instead of heading for the back, Matt walks over to where Tara is and starts talking to her family. Maria's holding his hand. The camera stays with the family as Matt smiles and walks away. Tara's got an odd look on her face, but everyone else is smiling.

Layla, oblivious to my mood, keeps on chattering. "I mean, what is he thinking?"

"Who?" I finally turn to look at Layla.

"Matt Hardy, of course," she says, rolling her eyes.

"I wish I knew," I mutter.

"Who _are_ those people?" she says. "I mean, who goes to have a chat with someone ringside like that?"

"I'm going to."

"What?" Layla sounds scandalized. "Why?"

"That's the family I was telling you about."

"Oh." She blinks. "Um, okay. But Michelle, you can't just walk up to them during the show and start talking to them like that."

"Why not?"

"Because, what will people think?"

"Layla," I say, calmly, "it's a house show. The only people who are going to see this are the audience and the Superstars, so why does it matter if I talk to some fans?"

She makes a face. "Whatever."

Why is she being so annoying today? "I'm going to go for a walk."

"Okay, but we're on in about thirty minutes. Don't forget."

"I'm not going to forget my own match!" I snap. She looks surprised as I storm out of the locker room.

I'm not planning to go anywhere in particular. Maybe to catering, to get something to drink. I'm wandering down that way when I hear someone calling my name. I turn around and there are Maria and Matt, holding hands. "Hey, Michelle," he says, smiling as I stop to wait for them.

"Hi," I say back, smiling weakly at them.

"I saw the kids out there," Matt says. "Tara's pretty excited about your match tonight."

"Great. I saw you talking to them on the monitor."

Maria is watching me, eyes narrowed. "So where are you headed?" she asks.

"Oh, uh, catering. I thought I'd grab myself a bottle of water."

"Don't you have water in your room?" she asks.

I shrug. "We must have run out." I don't want to say that Layla is bugging me. Not to these two.

"Well, we're headed that way, too," Matt says, oblivious to the death stare that his girlfriend is aiming at me. "Why don't you walk with us?"

"Sure," I say, the word out of my mouth before I can draw it back. I fall into step with them, and Maria keeps shooting me dirty looks. Matt's clueless. He keeps talking about whatever. I have no idea what he's saying because honestly, I'm too busy looking for an escape route.

It presents itself when we get to catering. I grab my bottle of water and see Punk and the straightedge society at a table in the back. "Oh, hey," I say to Matt and Maria. "Look, um, thanks for walking over with me, but I've got to go talk to Punk."

Matt shoots me an incredulous look. "Punk? Why are you going to talk to him?"

Too late, I realize who I'm talking to. "Layla asked me to. She thinks he's cute."

Matt shakes his head. "His beard looks like some kind of animal, attacking his face."

I grin. "Yeah. But there's no accounting for taste, right?"

"Apparently not," Maria mutters.

I smirk and ignore the comment. "I'll catch up with you guys later." With a wave, I'm walking away from Matt and Maria and headed toward the straightedge society.

"McCool," says Punk, raising his eyebrows at me. "Interesting company you're keeping these days."

"Punk," I say, the smirk still firmly in place. He looks relieved that I'm not calling him Cuddle Monkey… yet.

"I'd have waved hello, but I doubt they'd have approved," he says. "But since you've come over on your own, have a seat. I've got something to tell you."

"I can't stay long," I say. "I've got a match in about twenty minutes. I'm just here saying hello to you for Layla."

Now he's confused. "What?"

"That's what I told them."

"Oh." He glances behind me, to where Matt and Maria are seated, then looks back at me with a smirk. "So how's that working out for you?"

"Maria hates me. The feeling's mutual."

"And Matt?"

I shrug. "I think we're friends now."

"I'm sorry." He glances back at his friends, then leans forward to meet my eyes. In a very soft voice, he says, "Things are going to look up in the morning."

"Oh?"

Punk shrugs. "They always do, when you know the right people." For some reason, the words send a chill through me.

"Yeah. Uh, I'd better get going." I wave and start to walk away.

"Oh, McCool," Punk says, rather loudly, when I'm halfway across the room. I turn and look at him, puzzled. "Tell Layla I'll see her tomorrow."

I nod and head out of catering. Now what did he mean by that?


	10. After the Match

A/N: I'm skipping the actual match action because I don't think I could do it justice. Also, I don't own anyone here except the OCs.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 10: After the Match

As expected, I win my match. Layla rolls her eyes at me when I head ringside to see Tara and her family. "Are you guys having fun?" I ask.

Tara gives me a serious look. "Matt was holding hands with Maria."

"Yes," I say. "Maria is his girlfriend."

"Oh." She looks bothered by this. "I thought you were his girlfriend."

I smile at her. "Nope, we're just really good friends." I'm not sure whether it's the truth or a lie, but it seems to make Tara relax.

"Well, you should be his girlfriend." Oh boy.

"Tara," her mom says. "Be nice."

"It's fine," I say with a smile. "So are you guys going to stay after the show and come backstage?"

They nod. Tony says, "Thank you for the tickets, Michelle McCool."

"You're welcome, kiddo," I say. "But now I've got to get backstage and shower up. See you guys after the show."

"Bye!" Tara says, waving. "See you later!"

Layla's already backstage, waiting for me. "Sorry about earlier," I say.

"You've been acting really weird all day," she says. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm sure I'll be fine in the morning. Oh, that reminds me. I ran into C. M. Punk in catering earlier. I had to make the excuse that you think he's cute to Matt, and…"

"Who's cute?" Layla asks.

"Punk."

"Punk?" she all but shrieks at me. "He's not cute, he's…"

"Shh!" I hiss. "Listen, okay? I had to tell Matt that so he wouldn't be suspicious when I went to talk to Punk."

"Why did you go talk to Punk, anyway?"

"Matt and Maria walked me to catering, and she was giving me the stink eye the whole way. Then Matt wanted me to sit and talk with them. I had to say something!"

"Fine," Layla says, rolling her eyes. "So I think Punk's cute. Great."

"Anyway, the point is, Punk yelled at me across the room to tell you he'd see you tomorrow."

"Um, ew. He does know I don't think he's cute, right?"

"He knows," I say. "But I don't want people to ask you about it and have you freak out, like you just did on me."

Layla smirks. "Next time you decide to use me as an excuse, maybe you should pick someone I'd actually be caught dead talking to as your cover to get away from the losers."

"Matt's not a loser," I say automatically.

She stares at me. "Please tell me you're not buying into this joke, Michelle."

Before I can say a word, Punk walks past us. "Hi, McCool," he says, and then he pauses, bats his eyes at Layla and says, "Hi, Layla," in this flirty voice.

"Yuck!" Layla says. She turns to me. "When this is over, you are so dead."

Punk laughs and starts to walk away, but I grab his arm, stopping him. "So you're coming over tomorrow for something?"

He grins at me. "Oh, no. I expect you'll be by to see me sometime tomorrow. And for the record, you're welcome." Then he pulls his arm away from me and walks off.

"What is he talking about?" Layla asks.

"I don't know," I say, but the sinking feeling is back. I have no idea what Punk's done, but I suspect it's going to be something that I don't like.

It isn't too long after we see Punk that the show ends. I wait for the crowds to thin a little before I head back down to the arena, looking for Tara and her family. They're still in their seats, waiting for me.

"Did you guys like the show?" I ask.

"That was the coolest thing ever!" Tony says.

"It was a pretty good show." I jump. I didn't even _hear _Matt walk up behind me. I turn to look at him, and he grins at me, then leans against the divider. "So are you guys ready to get your backstage tour?"

"Yes!" Tara says. She looks like she's ready to climb over the divider to get to us.

Matt says, "Come this way," and he leads them toward the opening in the divider. Tara's mom stays where she is, along with another woman.

"This is my sister in law," she says. "My brother said he'd go with you guys and the kids. You don't mind if we stay out here, do you?"

"Not at all," I tell her. "This probably won't take more than half an hour. Most of the superstars are tired after the shows and want to get changed and head out for the night. We'll be back before you know it."

She nods. "If they aren't behaving, bring them back. And don't let them be rude."

"The kids or the superstars?" I joke.

"I meant the kids," she says, but she smiles at me. "Thank you so much for this, Michelle."

"It's my pleasure," I say, and I mean it. Tara is now on my side of the divider and once again throws her arms around me. "Oof! Hi, Tara."

"Michelle!" she says, grinning up at me. Man, this kid's adorable. "Matt says you have your own room here!"

"Sure do! You want to see it?"

"Yes!"

I grin. "Come on, then! There's a lot to see."


	11. Backstage Access

A/N: I only own the OCs. I'd love to own a wrestler, except they're probably hard to take care of. Plus, it would be weird. :P

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 11: Backstage Access

Tara and Tony introduce us to their older brother, Andrew, their cousins, Jim and Mike, and their uncle Dan. Once we know everyone, the eight of us head backstage. Tara wants to see my locker room, but I'm sure Layla's there, so I suggest we start in catering and then Matt and I can show them our locker rooms when we're sure they're clear. "Great idea," Matt says.

We tromp off in a group towards catering. We're not the only ones headed that way. Many of the Superstars go to catering after a show so that they can meet up with whoever they're sharing a ride with and go to dinner or their hotel room. I see Punk and the straightedge society are already there, and so is Maria. Oh, yeah, this isn't going to awkward or anything.

"Hey, Maria!" Matt says brightly when she pushes away from her table and comes to join us. She gives him a kiss, then looks at me. I want to run off and hide from that glare. Okay, no. I'd like to kick her ass. But still, it's uncomfortable, standing there under her gaze. Maybe I can talk creative into a feud with Maria so I can legitimately beat her up. It'll have to wait until after Wrestlemania, of course.

Tara tugs on my arm, breaking me away from my thoughts. "Michelle," she says softly.

"What, sweetie?"

"Why is C. M. Punk staring at us like that?"

I glance over and see that, sure enough, he's watching us. I smirk and wave at him. That earns me a grin and a lazy flick of his hand. "Don't worry about him, Tara. He's okay."

"He scares me," she admits.

I frown. Punk, scary? Well, I guess to a little kid, he could be. "Oh, sweetie," I say, "he's a friend of mine. He's not really bad. Remember how Tony thought I wasn't nice because of the person I play on TV?" She nods. "Well, Punk is kind of like that. He plays a kind of scary character, but he's really kind of silly."

"Silly?" She doesn't look like she believes me.

I pick her up. "Come on, I'll prove it to you." I turn to Matt and the others. "We'll be right back."

As we're walking across the room, Tara grabs my neck. "He's scary, though."

"I'm going to teach you the magic words," I say, "that make him less scary."

"Okay."

"When we get over there, I want you to say, 'Hi, Cuddle Monkey.' I promise, he won't be scary after that. He'll be silly."

Tara giggles. "Cuddle Monkey?"

"Trust me," I tell her. We reach the table and Punk smirks up at us.

"Hi, McCool. Who's your friend?"

"This is Tara. Tara, meet C. M. Punk."

Tara looks at me, then at C. M. Punk. She hesitates, then says, "Hi, Mr. Cuddle Monkey."

Punk's eyes go wide. He looks from Tara to me before he facepalms. "I can't believe you told her to call me that," he mutters. "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't call me that in public."

"I didn't."

"You didn't what?" he demands.

"I didn't agree. I also didn't call you that." I grin, and I see that Tara's also grinning. "Anyway, we have to get back to the group." I smile sweetly at Punk. "See you later, Cuddle Monkey."

Punk just shakes his head. "Tomorrow, then."

"What's happening tomorrow?" Tara asks me, and I shrug.

"He's going to come and see my friend Layla because she likes him."

Tara's eyes are huge. "Layla? She's my second favorite diva besides you!"

"You've got good taste, Tara."

"No," Tara says, "I have Flawless taste." We both giggle at that, and we're both grinning like mad when we get back to Matt and the others. They've grabbed a table near the middle of the room and Matt is herding Superstars toward them, doing intros and getting pictures of the kids and the stars. I bring Tara over and set her down on the vacant chair next to her brother Andrew and I start helping Matt. Maria has wandered off somewhere, but I don't miss her. Matt doesn't seem to, either.

"Michelle!" Tara says to me, suddenly. "Look! Layla's here!"

"Do you want a picture with team Lay-Cool, Tara?" I ask.

"Yes, please!"

"No problem." I go over to Layla. "Hey, Layla."

"What are you doing, Michelle?" she asks.

"Look, do me a favor and come over and get your picture taken with me and Tara, will you?"

She rolls her eyes. "The things I do for my friend," she mutters, but she follows me over and pastes on her best "fan meet and greet" smile. "Hi! You must be Tara."

"Hi, Layla!" Tara says, launching herself at my friend. Layla gives me a trapped look.

I grin. "Come here, Tara, and stand on this chair. Matt, can you get a picture of the three of us with Tara in the middle?"

"Sure," he says. "Hi, Layla."

"Hi," Layla says, through gritted teeth. "Snap the picture, 'k?" Matt smirks at me, then snaps the picture. Layla turns to Tara. "It was nice meeting you." I lift the little girl down from the chair and make sure she's sitting again, while Layla's talking to me. "So look, I'll meet you back at the hotel. I've got somewhere I have to be."

"Sure," I say. "I can have someone give me a ride back."

"I can," Matt says.

"I want to wince, but I smile. "Thanks, Matt, but I don't want to put you to any trouble. I'll get a ride with someone else."

Matt says, "Well, let me know if you change your mind."

We stick around catering another ten minutes, and then I take Tara and the others to see my locker room. Tara is really impressed with the costumes and make up. Finally, I glance at the clock. "Whoa! Your mom's probably worried about you guys. I said half an hour, and it's been closer to an hour. Come on." We slog back to the arena and find Tara's mom and aunt, waiting patiently for us. "Sorry," I say. "I didn't mean for it to take so long."

Matt lets them all back through the boundaries. "Mom!" Tony says, "That was so awesome!"

"I got my picture taken with team Lay-Cool!" Tara announces.

I grin at the kids. "I'm glad you guys came."

"Me too," Matt says. "Hey, let me get your address and I'll mail you guys these pictures once I get them all signed. Cool?"

"Sure," says Tara's mom. She gives Matt the address, and he jots it down.

"It may take me a bit to get all these done. We took a lot of pictures," Matt says. "We'd better get going now. But thanks for bringing the kids. It's been a long time since I've had that much fun. You've got a great family."

Thanks," she says with a smile. "Come on, guys. Let's get home."

Tara looks up at me. "Goodbye, Michelle." Her eyes are full of tears.

I lean over the barricade and hug her. "Maybe next time we're in town, we can do this again," *I tell her. "And don't forget, you're part of team Lay-Cool now."

"I'm Flawless?" she asks, with a shy smile.

I smile back. "Definitely."


	12. Dinner

A/N: Whew! Longest chapter yet! I only own the OCs.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 12: Dinner

Matt and I are both quiet as we leave the kids and their parents in the arena. We walk back to my locker room. I'm sure, like me, that Matt needs to pack his things. However, he hesitates outside the room. "Are you sure you don't need a ride back to the hotel?"

"I'm pretty sure. Punk usually stays late, and he can give me a ride."

Matt makes a face. "Come on, Michelle," he says. "Do you really want to ride with the straightedge society? You'll never hear the end of the preaching with those three."

"Punk's okay," I say. "Sometimes."

Matt just shakes his head. "I got so sick of that guy when he and Jeff were feuding. All that straightedge crap was annoying." He pauses. "Why don't you want me to give you a ride? Is this about Maria?"

"Why do people keep asking me that?" I mutter.

"You don't like her, do you?"

I shrug. "I think it's mutual, actually."

Matt chuckles. "She did ask me what the hell I thought I was doing, hanging around you. After that Dolph Ziggler thing…"

I feel my cheeks get hot. "Yeah, that was not my finest hour."

He says, "Well, it doesn't matter, anyway. Maria brought her car tonight because she was going to stay back and talk to Mr. McMahon."

"Well, in that case," I say, "sure, Matt. I'd love a ride. If you don't think Maria's going to be mad at you for it?"

Matt says, "She won't care. I'll meet you back here in ten minutes?"

"Sounds good," I say, before pushing my way into the locker room. "See you in ten."

It takes me the entire ten minutes (and more) to get ready. Matt knocks on the door as I'm finishing up. "Are you decent?" he calls through the door.

"No more than usual," I call back, and Matt comes in, chuckling.

"Cute," he says. "You need any help?"

"Nope, I'm done." I zip my last bag up and lift the pair of them, and together, we head to his car. He gets in and unlocks the door for me, so I slide in beside him. "This is starting to feel normal," I comment, when he turns the radio on and it blasts a random song.

"Sorry," Matt says, as he turns the radio off. "Normally Helms rides with me, but he said he needed to go see Mr. McMahon, too."

"Huh. I wonder what that's all about."

"No idea. Storyline, maybe?"

I shrug. "Anyway, thanks for the ride, Matt."

"No problem. I mean, we're both going the same place, right?" He frowns. "You weren't going out somewhere or something, were you?"

"No, just to the hotel," I say.

"You're not hungry?"

"Not too much, no."

Matt turns to look at me. "We could go grab something, take it back to the hotel?"

"Sure, okay."

"Good," Matt says, firing up the car. "How do you feel about hamburgers? I think I saw a fast food place near the hotel."

"Whatever's fine by me."

Matt pulls the car away from the arena. By now, there's almost no traffic. I check the clock and see that it's edging on toward ten. No wonder I'm so tired. I doze off in the car. Matt wakes me up when we're in the drive through. "What do you want, Michelle?"

"Uh?" I glance at the menu. "Just a cheeseburger, I guess. Oh, and a shake. Strawberry."

Matt chuckles. "A cheeseburger and a shake it is." He pulls up to the speaker and orders his food and mine, then pulls through to the second window.

The kid at the window does a double-take. "Holy crap! Are you Matt Hardy?"

Matt smiles. "Yes, I am."

"Wow, awesome! I'm a huge fan of your brother's!"

Matt glances at me as I snicker. "I'll tell him you said so," he says with a smile. "And hey, this is Michelle McCool."

"Who?"

"She's the Diva's champion?"

"Oh, a Diva. Is she one of the hot ones?"

"Hey! I'm right here!" I say.

Matt winks at me. "Yes, she is."

"Cool," the guy says. "Um, so that'll be twelve ninety five." Matt hands over the money and the guy makes change. "Okay, here's your food and your drinks."

"Thanks," Matt says.

"Have a nice night."

"You, too!" Matt says with a grin. Once we're pulled out of the drive through, he starts laughing. "Man, can you believe the nerve of that guy?"

I take my shake and sip it. "Did you say I was one of the hot divas?"

Matt smirks. "Aren't you the Flawless one? That means you're hot, right?"

I steal one of Matt's fries. "Yes, I just wasn't sure you noticed."

"Hey," he says, "no fry stealing. If you want them, you order them next time."

I shoot him a look. "Okay. Next time." I steal another fry.

Matt sighs. "Divas." I poke him in the ribs, and swerves. "Ow! Hey!"

I grin and make a point of stealing another fry, but this one, I hold out for him. "Here. Fries are kind of gross, anyway."

He smirks and bites the fry. "That makes me feel like some kind of wild animal."

I shrug. "Wrestlers are wild animals, right?"

"Mm, guess so." His brow furrows. "Hey, Michelle?"

"Hmm?"

"You sharing a room this time?"

My eyebrows shoot up. "Why?"

He blushes. "Um, I hate eating alone. I'm sharing a room with Helms. I assume you're in with Layla?"

"Yes. Layla and I pretty much always share."

"That's what I thought. Um, so… do you want to eat in one of the rooms, or… we could eat in the car."

I chuckle. "You're not hitting on me, are you?"

"No!" He seems almost offended. "I mean, I have a girlfriend, you know? I wouldn't do that to Maria."

"Well, we've got the food, so we may as well eat together," I agree. "Maybe we should eat in the car. It'll be easier than explaining to our roommates why we're alone together."

"Or there's the park."

"It's the middle of the night. It's probably full of homeless people and muggers."

Matt considers. "Good point." He pulls into the parking lot of the hotel. "So we just eat here, then?"

"Works for me."

"Good. I'm starving." He digs the food out of the bag and hands me my cheeseburger before starting on his food. I'm surprised when he dumps the fries into one of the bags and puts it down between us. "Go ahead, if you want more."

"It's more fun to steal them," I say with a smirk. Nevertheless, I take a fry. "Thanks."

"Sure." It's quiet for several minutes, as we've both got our food to keep us occupied. I'm deep in thought when he clears his throat and says, "So, Michelle…"

"Yes?"

He grins. "Can you believe that guy in the drive through?"

"That was pretty bad," I agree.

"And you were laughing at me, weren't you?"

I shrug. "You know, Hardy, it was amusing."

"Almost as amusing as his question about whether you were a hot diva or not."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, thanks for dragging me into that mess."

"Any time, McCool," he says.

When we're finished with dinner, Matt walks me to my room. I could hear Layla was inside, so I say, "I had fun tonight. Thanks for dinner."

"Sure," he says with a smile.

"But next time, I'm buying."

Matt raises his eyebrows. "Deal."

I smirk and say, "Goodnight, Mr. Hardy."

He's grinning when he answers, "Goodnight to you, Ms. McCool."

I let myself into the room. Layla frowns at me. "Where were you?"

"I stayed late and Matt brought me back."

"Ugh. Matt again?" She shakes her head. "I swear, Michelle, I'll be glad when Wrestlemania's over."

I flop onto the bed, exhausted. "Hit the lights, would you? It's been a long day."


	13. Everything Changes

A/N: I don't own any of the wrestlers, only the OCs. Yeah, I'll even claim the drive through guy. :)

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 13: Everything Changes

The sunlight woke me the next morning. I must have forgotten to pull the shades before going to sleep. Normally, I'm good about that kind of thing, but I'd been so tired the night before… I sat up, a smile on my face. Today was going to be a good day, I could just feel it. I check the clock and see that it's still early- not quite eight o'clock. I decide to let Layla sleep and go find myself some breakfast. I take the elevator down, humming to myself. I'd expected the lobby to be empty of Superstars and Divas, since we tend to be late risers. I definitely hadn't expected to encounter Matt Hardy, sitting alone with his head down.

"Matt?"

He looks up at me. His eyes are red. "Hey, Michelle."

"Are you okay?" I slide into the chair next to him.

He says, "Not really. It was a rough night."

I frown, trying to think of anything that could have made it rough for him. I come up blank. "What happened?"

He's got this completely miserable look on his face that is breaking my heart. "Apparently, the reason Shane and Maria had to stay behind last night after the show was because they no longer have jobs with the WWE."

"What?" I'm stunned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Matt shrugs. "They were in my room when I got back. They told me as soon as I walked in. Didn't even get to put my room key down before Maria was sobbing on my chest." He shakes his head. "We were up all night, the three of us, trying to figure it out. Maria said she was told it was because she said she wanted to do other things. Shane said his was because of him and Jericho getting arrested last month."

"Oh man," I say. "Did Jericho get fired, too?"

"Nope, just Shane," he says bitterly. "I was there that night, too. Shane came back and I didn't. He got arrested and I didn't. Now I've got a job and he doesn't." He looks up at me. "How do I live with that, Michelle?"

"I don't know," I say. "Didn't he hit someone, though? Some woman?"

Matt sighs. "I don't remember much about that night, unfortunately. I woke up in a field with a horrible headache. Good thing I had my phone or I'd probably still be out there."

I pat his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He manages a weak smile. "Thanks. I'm going to follow Shane and Maria to the airport so they can drop off her rental and catch flights home. They booked them last night while you and I were eating dinner, I guess."

I nod. "I'm sorry. If I'd have known…"

"It's fine," he says. "At least it was a fun night, up until I got back to my room." He glances up. "Oh, there they are. I've got to go, Michelle. See you later?"

"Sure," I say. "Come by the room when you get back, if you want." He nods and we both stand up. I walk back toward the stairs, pausing when I get to Maria and Helms. "I'm sorry," I tell them.

Maria smirks and waves the words off. "Whatever."

Shane, though, smiles at me. "We'll be fine. Three months off, and then I'll be on TNA, most likely."

I nod. "Good luck." I head up the stairs, wanting to think about this. Despite the fact that it's early, I know Punk's going to be awake. He's one of the early risers in this group. He told me that I'd be by sometime today. I suppose he was right.

I knock on the door, and he doesn't look surprised to see me. "Good morning, Michelle. You're up early, for once."

I take a deep breath. "What did you do, Punk?" I ask, stepping into his room. He shuts the door behind me.

"What do you think I've done?"

"Maria's gone from the WWE, and so is Shane Helms."

"You're welcome and I'm not surprised."

I sigh. "Why?"

"You came to me, remember, asking how to get Matt for this little bet of yours. I told you the only way to do it was if Maria was gone. The fact that Helms is gone, too… I hadn't planned that, but it works."

"Matt's miserable!"

Punk raises his eyebrows at me. "That makes it the perfect time for you to step up and comfort him, doesn't it?"

"Damn it!" I growl. "I didn't ask you to do this, Punk!"

"Don't worry, McCool. This can't be traced back to either of us. You're clear."

I just shake my head. "Sometimes, I really don't like you."

He smiles. "You should probably go before someone comes looking for you. Have a nice day, McCool."

"We're not done talking about this."

"Yes, we are. For now, anyway. Go back to bed, McCool. You look exhausted." He opens the door and I step out. He closes it softly behind me. I'm left in the hallway, staring at Punk's door and wondering what to do next.


	14. So Close, Yet So Far Away

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! They make me giddy. :) I only own the OC's. No wrestlers were harmed in the writing of this fic. ;) My sanity, on the other hand...

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 14: So Close, Yet So Far Away

I was pulled from my nightmares by Layla shaking me awake. "What?" I mutter.

"Hardy's at the door," she says. "He said you were expecting him?"

"Right. Sorry. I must have dozed off." I pull myself up from the bed and head to the door. Sure enough, Matt's standing there. "Hey, Matt," I say, stifling a yawn.

"Do you want me to come back later?" he asks.

"No, it's all right." I step out into the hall and shut the door behind me. "Um, can we maybe go to your room? Layla's been kind of bitchy lately."

"Lately?" he mutters. Then, "Sure. Yeah, come on."

I follow him down the hall to the elevator. Turns out his room's one floor up from mine. He unlocks the door and we go in. When the door's closed, I ask, "Are you okay?"

Matt shrugs. "Not really." He settles on one of the beds. "I feel kind of abandoned, to be honest."

I frown and sit down next to him. "Abandoned?"

"Jeff's gone. And now Maria and Shane are gone, too. I don't have a lot of friends left in the WWE."

What can I say to that? You have me? I shake my head. "I'm so sorry. This must really suck for you."

"Yeah, it does." He sighs and looks over at me. "Don't go anywhere on me, okay?"

"I have no plans to, Matt."

"Neither did Maria," he mutters. Then he says, "She thinks you're behind this somehow."

"Me? Why?"

"I don't know. We got into a huge fight at the airport. She told me not to bother to call her until I 'saw the light', whatever that means."

I bit my lip. "What about Helms?"

"He thinks maybe Maria was getting too demanding and she talked herself out of a job," he says, smiling wanly. "I tend to agree with that assessment. Don't get me wrong; I really like Maria. But she's had so much on her plate lately that I was starting to wonder if she even wanted a boyfriend anymore."

"Ouch," I say, and he nods.

"So what are your plans for the day?"

"Packing up so we can get on the road, mainly."

Matt sighs. "It's going to be a really long, boring drive."

"It's only like six hours."

"Six hours alone. Good thing I've got some CDs in the car."

I look down at the bed. It's neatly made, and there's no way the maid has been up here yet. "Have you slept at all?"

He shakes his head. "I was too busy."

"Well, look. We don't have to be on the road for another couple hours. Why don't you grab a nap? I'd hate to think of you driving on no sleep. That's worse than driving drunk."

Matt says, "I'm still not tired."

I frown. "You probably would be if you would lay down." Jokingly, I give him a shove and he falls back on the bed. Our eyes meet, and I jump up quickly. "I'll let you get some rest. I should go lay back down myself."

"You don't have to go. There's another bed here. Layla's already up, so I doubt she's going to let you sleep any more."

I groan, because he's right. Layla looked pretty ticked when I left. "I am not looking forward to sharing a car with her tonight."

Matt pushes up onto his elbows and says, "Want to ride with me, then?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Matt."

"Why not?"

"Your girlfriend just left. People are going to talk if we start carpooling."

"Well, I wasn't suggesting it become a permanent thing," he says. "Just tonight, since I'm probably going to wreck the car otherwise." He makes a sad face at me. "Come on. I'll buy you french fries."

I feel my resistance crumble. "We'll see," I mutter. He grins like that's a yes. I head for the windows and pull the heavy curtains. "Now seriously, sleep time for you."

Matt yawns. "Sure. Hey, Michelle?"

"What?"

"You're a good friend."

"Go to sleep, Matt."

He leans over and turns the AC on, then crawls under the blanket. "I'm serious about you staying if you want," he says sleepily. "Can't have you wrecking the car, either."

I sit on the other bed and say, "I'll hang out for a bit, make sure you're able to sleep." Matt smiles.

I only intend to stay a few minutes, but the room is cool and dark, and the bed is soft and inviting, and he's right about Layla not letting me sleep any more. So with a sigh, I slide down on the second bed and turn my head, so I can watch Matt sleep. He said I was a good friend, and yet all of this is my fault. I know I should confess everything to him, but if I do, he'll hate me. I don't want him to hate me. The last couple of days have been amazing. I close my eyes, and sleep overtakes me.


	15. Confrontation

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 15: Confrontation

I wake up disoriented. I turn my head toward the noise that brought me up from sleep and it takes me a minute to register what's going on. Matt's packing in the dark room. I think he's trying to be quiet, but he's not all that good at it. "Matt?"

"Hey," he says, turning to look at me. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Yes."

He laughs. "Sorry. It's time to get up, anyway. Check out's in half an hour, and your room's probably a mess."

"I got everything packed this morning," I say with a yawn.

"I'm impressed." Matt zips up the bag he's working on, then looks at me. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Fine. You?"

"Great. I was exhausted." He sits down on his bed. "Thanks for staying."

"Sure." Man, this is awkward. I push the blanket off. "Well, I should go talk to Layla. Um, do you still want me to ride with you tonight?"

"If you want to. Don't feel like you have to, though."

I nod. The weird thing is, I do kind of want to. I know I shouldn't, and that it's going to be a really long drive in an awkwardly silent car, but that still seems better than the alternative. "I think I'd feel better if I did. I don't want you to have to drive alone."

"It would be a fate worse than death," he says with a smile. "I hate not having someone to talk to."

"Let me go talk to Layla, then." I head for the door. "And thanks for letting me stay."

I step into the hall and don't make it more than five steps before someone is calling my name. I turn, thinking maybe it's Matt. It isn't. I groan as Punk catches up to me. "Hey," he says, "Layla is frantic. Where have you been?"

Before I can even think to answer, Matt opens the door to his room and steps out, bags in hand. He pauses, taking in me and Punk in the hallway. "I'm going to go check out," he says. "I'll see you downstairs."

"Sure," I say with a smile.

Punk watches the entire exchange silently, his eyebrows raised. When the elevator closes behind Matt, he turns back to me, smirking. "Again, you're welcome."

I smack Punk on the arm. "I am trying to clean up the mess you made," I growl at him. "That poor guy is devastated."

"Yes, he looked really heartbroken," Punk agrees, still smirking. "It's so sweet of you to disappear into his room for hours on end and comfort him like that."

"We were asleep." I mutter, which makes him laugh.

"Sure you were," he says.

I'm sure my face is bright red. "Look, nothing happened, okay? He didn't sleep last night, and…" I stop. "You know what? I don't have to explain this to you." I head down the hall. Punk falls into step beside me. "What do you want now?"

"I'm going with you to see Layla," he says.

"Thanks, but I don't need an escort."

"She knocked on my door about an hour ago, frantic because she couldn't find you. She tried calling you, but you left your phone in your room, sunshine." I groan. "You went off with Hardy and didn't tell your best friend where you were going. Of course I'm going with you. There's no way I'm going to miss this."

"My life is a mess," I say, turning to him, "and you're enjoying this. I swear, Cuddle Monkey…"

He smirks at me. "Go ahead," he says. "Call me Cuddle Monkey all you want." He slings his arm around my shoulder. "I'm sure Hardy would get a kick out of me telling him all about your cute little nickname for me."

"I really hate you right now," I mutter, pushing his arm off me. He follows me into the elevator, which we take down to my room. I realize when we get there that not only did I forget my phone, I don't even have a room key. Punk snickers at me as I'm forced to knock.

Layla looks upset when she opens the door. "Michelle! Where the hell have you been?"

Punk answers for me. "Apparently, she was in Hardy's room."

I shove Punk, then head into the room. He follows, damn him. "Maria and Helms got fired last night," I say to Layla, as she closes the door. "That's why Matt was here this morning." I shoot Punk a look.

"So it's not going to take until Wrestlemania for you to win the bet?" Layla asks. "Thank God. Though don't you think going to his room the day after his girlfriend is fired is a little… tacky? And kind of gross? He's such a loser!"

I stare at Layla. "Uh." Then I look over at Punk. He looks so smug. "Look, um. I'm kind of friends with the guy."

"Who?" Layla asks. "Punk?"

"No! Matt!"

She stares at me, disbelief all over her face. "What are you talking about?"

I grab my bags, mostly to keep myself busy. "He wants me to ride with him today."

"Is she serious?" Layla asks Punk. He shrugs, though now he looks less amused. "Michelle, what the hell has gotten into you lately? You're acting all weird."

I turn to Layla. "He's not a loser, okay? He's a nice guy."

"Oh, no," Punk says, "he's definitely a loser. Think about it, Michelle. Look who he's related to."

I glare at Punk. "Stay out of this." Then, to Layla, I say, "Maybe I'm tired of feeling shallow and empty all the time. Do you know that everyone else on the roster hates us?"

"They're just jealous," she says, smirking.

"I can't deal with this right now," I say, grabbing my phone. "I'll talk to you tonight, Layla."

"Wait, you were serious about riding with Hardy?" she asks, following me to the door.

"Yeah," I say. "I'll see you at the hotel."

"Michelle!" she yells, but I'm already sprinting down the stairs before her shout reaches my ears.

I drop my room key on the hotel desk and turn to look for Matt. He's in the same chair he was in this morning. "Ready?" he asks me, standing and walking to the desk.

I smile. "Yes. Let's get out of here."


	16. In the Car

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers. They don't own me, either, so I guess we're even.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 16: In the Car

We're not more than two miles from the hotel when my phone rings for the fifth time. I push the ignore button. Again. Matt glances my way. "You can answer that if you want, you know."

"I don't want to," I say. "It's Layla."

"Oh. She's annoyed with you, huh?" Before I can answer, the phone rings again. I sigh. "I don't think she's going to stop until you talk to her."

"Sorry," I say. I click the answer button. "Hello?"

"Michelle!" Layla screeches in my ear. "What the hell?"

"I told you," I say, "I'll see you tonight. I'm turning the phone off now, Layla."

"But…"

I click the hang up button a little harder than I have to and hold it down, satisfied to see the phone flash the goodbye screen at me. "That seemed a little harsh," Matt remarks.

"Between her and Punk, it was a frustrating morning."

He frowns and tightens his grip on the wheel. "What is the deal with you and Punk, anyway? Are you guys dating or something?"

"Me and Punk?" I ask with a laugh. "No. God, no! We're just friends."

Matt seems to relax a little. "Oh. It's just that he always seems to be around you." He hesitates, then says, "I just don't know how you can be friends with him. He's kind of arrogant."

"So am I," I say.

Matt grins. "I see your point."'I stick my tongue out at him. "Seriously, though. Doesn't that straightedge crap get old?"

"You know," I say, "contrary to what you might think, he doesn't preach about it all the time. He's a smart guy, and he can be pretty funny. Just don't ask him to go drinking with you unless you're willing to sit through the evils of alcohol speech."

He shakes his head. "Your experiences with him and mine are very different. So are he and Layla dating, then?"

"No," I say. "They don't really get along."

"I thought you said yesterday that she liked him?"

Oh, crap. I forgot about saying that! I mutter, "Uh, yeah, I did."

He turns to look at me. "Hey! You weren't just trying to get away from me, were you?"

"No!" I say. "I wasn't trying to get away from you, exactly..."

Matt blinks, then laughs. "Oh my God! You made up that excuse to get away from Maria? I should have known."

I feel like an idiot. "Yeah."

He smiles at me. "You could have just told me."

"I was trying to be nice for once."

"But that still doesn't explain why Punk was outside my room this morning."

I sigh. "I forgot to bring my cell with me this morning and Layla got panicky when she couldn't get ahold of me. She told Punk I was missing, and that I'd gone off somewhere with you. He happened to see me come out of your room and now he's assuming the worst. Between that and the fact that we're riding together today, there are probably going to be rumors flying tonight. Sorry."

Matt chuckles. "Don't worry about it. Rumors don't bother me." He paused. "What about you, though? Can your reputation afford to take the hit? After all, I'm a loser, right?"

"Matt!" I'm shocked. "You are not a loser!"

"I know I'm not. But I'm sure your friends don't agree with that assessment."

"Oh, who cares what they think? They don't know you. If they did, they wouldn't think that. I don't think you're a loser."

"No?"

I shake my head. "Definitely not."

"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure you said, 'Hi, Loser!' to me a couple weeks ago. That was you, right?"

I eye him. "Sure. But you said I was a shallow bitch yesterday, so I think we're even."

He grins. "Touché."

We both lapse into silence for a few miles. Matt looks like he's deep in thought. I feel surprisingly relaxed. I thought it would be awkward to spend so much time in the car alone with Matt, but it isn't. I'm actually enjoying myself. "Hey, Matt?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for asking me to ride with you today."

He looks my way. "Sure. I'm glad you decided to join me. I hate taking long drives by myself."

"Well, we have that in common, then."

"You know," Matt says, "this seems kind of weird. Up until last week, you'd never said a kind word to me, and now all the sudden, we're hanging out like we're best friends." He checks the road, then looks back at me. "And I still have no idea why you're being nice to me now."

I bite my lip. "Maybe we shouldn't try to figure it out."

"Maybe," he says, but he sounds doubtful.

"Maybe I just needed a change."

"And yet you still hang out with Punk and Layla."

"What's wrong with Layla?"

Matt rolls his eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Name me one thing wrong with her. And be careful, because she is my best friend."

"Okay. She hates me."

I can't really argue with him there. "Only because she doesn't know you."

"She doesn't know me because she doesn't want to know me." He sighs and looks at the road. "You know what? It's fine. You have friends who hate me. They don't have to like me, and I don't have to like them. It's not like you and I are dating or something."

He says it so casually, but the words themselves are like a punch in the gut. I take a deep breath and look his way, to see if I can gauge what he's thinking. His face is carefully neutral. "Yeah," I finally say, closing my eyes so I won't have to see his reaction. I'm not sure I want to know why he said that. But that relaxed atmosphere in the car? It's totally gone now.


	17. Insecurities

A/N: I don't own any of the wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 17: Insecurities

We somehow make it to the hotel. The atmosphere in the car never went back to being relaxed, which makes me sad. Regardless, we check into the hotel, and I ride over to the arena with Layla. She's quiet the whole way, but by the time we're on, she's her usual self, and so am I. Matt doesn't have a match, but he comes down and watches ours, and he walks back with me, despite the nasty looks Layla is shooting his way. We walk back to catering together. Punk's leaving just as we arrive. "Good luck," I tell him.

He smirks. "Luck is for losers. I've got skills, McCool."

"Like I said… good luck."

He glances at Matt, then grabs me in a bear hug. "If you're going to wish a guy luck, he ought to at least get a kiss."

"Augh! Damn it, Punk!" I smack him and he laughs, though he lets go of me.

"I'll let you off with a warning this time," he says to me. Then, he raises his eyebrows and nods to Matt. "Hardy."

"Punk," Matt says, though he doesn't seem happy about it.

Punk pushes past us and I debate calling out good luck one more time, but Matt's got this look on his face that reminds me of a brewing storm, so I decide not to push my luck. Instead, I grab myself a water bottle and find a table. Matt follows a moment later with his own water bottle. He sits next to me, quiet. When I finally can't take any more of the brooding, I say, "Matt?"

He looks up at me, then down to the water bottle. "Yeah?"

"What's going on with you?"

He sighs. "Nothing."

It's obvious that something's bothering him. "Maatt," I say, making his name a whine.

He looks up at me. "What?"

"We're friends, right?" He just shrugs. I frown. "I'm being serious."

"I don't know, Michelle," he says. "Are we friends?"

"Okay, what the hell?" I ask. "Why are you so moody all the sudden?"

"If you and Punk aren't dating, then why did he do that?"

I stare at him. "Oh my God, are you jealous?"

"Of Punk?" he scoffs. " Please!"

"You are," I say, surprised. "Matt, I'm not dating Punk. I told you, he's my friend. We hang out sometimes. Look, he even made an effort to acknowledge your existence."

"Wow, how big of him," Matt mutters.

I lean across the table and take Matt's hand. He looks up at me, frowning. "Listen. Punk was just being Punk. He's got no interest in me, other than as a friend." I pause, trying to figure out the rest of what I want to say.

"I'm not jealous," Matt says, when the silence stretches on. "But I am worried about you getting hurt by that guy."

"Punk's like an older brother to me," I tell him. "A big, pain in the rear, older brother. I'm not going to get hurt by him because anything other than a friendship with him would seem weird and gross." I smile at Matt. "And I'm so not interested in him."

Matt looks down at our hands. "Oh? And who are you interested in?"

"I couldn't say, Hardy," I say in my most serious voice. "Let's just say it's not Punk and leave it at that."

"But there is someone?" he asks, lifting his eyes to mine.

"There might be." My cheeks feel warm. My throat is dry. I reach for my uncapped water bottle with my free hand and take a sip.

Matt smiles. "Anyone I know?"

"Maybe."

We're looking into one another's eyes, all serious and intense. I wonder what he's thinking. He starts to say something, but before he can get the words out, Layla interrupts us. "There you are!" She skids to a stop next to the table and looks from me to Matt, frowning. "Michelle, I need to talk to you."

"Can it wait?" I ask. "We're kind of in the middle of something here."

Layla rolls her eyes. "No, it can't. I'm sure you'll have plenty of time for…" She pauses. "Whatever this is later."

Matt leans back in his chair. "Go ahead, Michelle."

I frown. "I'm sorry. I'll be back in a bit."

"It's okay. We can continue our discussion later." He smiles at me, and pushes away from the table. "I think I'll go for a walk."

Layla and I watch him stroll away. When he's no longer in catering, she turns to me. "Okay, seriously, what the hell was that?"

"What?"

"You were sitting here, loser gazing!"

I say, "Don't call him that!" a little more loudly than I should. People are staring at us. Layla smirks at me. I grab her arm and drag her away from catering, to our locker room. When we're inside, I turn to her again, completely furious. "You're my best friend, and I love you like a sister, but so help me, Layla, do not call him a loser again, or you'll be looking for a new tag partner."

"Michelle!" Her jaw drops. "What—Why—" She pauses to collect herself. "I can't believe you just said that to me!"

I sigh. "Look, I like the guy. He's smart and funny and I want to see where it goes."

Layla is looking at me like I've gone mad. Maybe I have. "He's got a girlfriend."

"Who, Maria? They broke up."

"You barely know the guy."

"True, but what I know, I like."

"Well, I don't like him!"

"You don't have to like him, but I wish you'd give him a chance. Punk is trying, why can't you?"

Layla looks at me. "Maybe it's because you never want to spend time with anyone but Matt Hardy. I'm sorry, Michelle. I feel like we're not friends anymore. I never see you, and when I do see you, all we end up doing is fighting over this guy. Up until last week, you couldn't wait to bash him, and now you want to see where things go?" She shakes her head.

"We're still friends!" I protest.

"Then why don't you act like it? Why don't you sever your at the hip tie with Hardy for a day or two and hang out with me? We've got a long weekend coming up. We could go to the next venue early and hang out for a couple of days, maybe do some shopping, just us girls…"

I want to say no. I really do. Instead, I sigh. "Will it get you off my back about Matt?"

"Yes."

"All right. Book us a flight, I guess."

"Oh! This is going to be so much fun!" She hugs me. "I've missed hanging out with you."

"Me too." I say, even though I'm not feeling it right now.


	18. Juggling Friendships

A/N: I don't own any of the wrestlers. I do have some cookies, though!

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 18: Juggling Friendships

I can't stand to stay in the locker room another minute. I don't know what it is. Layla's happily chattering away, which is nice to see, but I want to be somewhere quiet to think about things. What am I doing? My first thought when I said okay to spending a girl's weekend with Layla was, What will Matt think? Maybe Layla's right. My life is starting to feel like it revolves around him. That's a scary thought.

I really should stop walking when I'm deep in thought like that. It's always getting me into trouble, and this is no exception. Someone grabs me from behind and I feel a scruffy beard brush against my neck, making me cringe. "So you and Hardy can exist separately, after all," he says in my ear.

"Get off me, Punk!" I say, twisting in his grip so I can push him back. "What the hell?"

Why does he always look so amused when he catches me off guard? I swear, sometimes I don't know why we're friends. "You looked lost. I thought I'd see if you needed any help."

"You're not a boy scout, you know. You'd be terrible at it."

"I know," he says. "I never claimed to be a boy scout." He tilts his head. "Seriously, where's Hardy?"

"I don't know."

"Hmm. I've hardly seen one of you without the other all week. This is most perplexing. This isn't because of what I did in catering, is it?"

"No, but thanks for that." I roll my eyes. "Matt keeps asking me if you and I are dating."

"What fun would that be? I couldn't pick on you if you were my girlfriend. Besides, Serena would kill me."

"I somehow doubt that. Gallows might, though."

Punk smirks. "And then you'd be without a Cuddle Monkey, which would be so sad."

"A tragedy, really." I grin. "So, um, thanks for not completely ignoring Matt earlier."

"Like I said, you guys are always together anymore. If I want to bug you, I have to acknowledge that the guy exists." He frowns. "I still don't like him, though. He's better than his brother, but…" He shrugs and lowers his voice, "Still not someone I'd picture you with, McCool. He just doesn't seem like your type at all."

"Maybe that's part of what I like about him."

Punk rolls his eyes. "So it's self loathing that's driven you into his arms?"

I smack his arm in response. The thing I love about Punk is that I can smack him and he'll just smirk at me. "Don't be an idiot, Cuddle Monkey," I say.

"I'll try not to, sunshine, but it's hard. I'm so good at it."

I laugh. "I was thinking it, but I didn't expect you to say it."

"What can I say? I'm all about the hard truths in life." He crosses his arms in his straightedge X and winks at me.

"You're killing me. You know, if you showed this side to the audience more often, they'd quit booing you."

"Why would I want them to do that?" The smirk is back. "Hey. McCool, want to go straightedge? Luke's got the clippers in the car."

"I'll shave my head when you shave that homeless man's beard off your face."

"Is that all it's going to take?"

"No. But it would be nice to see the cute C. M. Punk again. You know, the one who looked like he wasn't trying to out-body-hair a gorilla."

"Ouch," says Punk mildly, putting his hand over his heart. "You wound me, McCool, you really do. So no straightedge?"

"That depends. Do you want to go out drinking with me later?" Punk makes a face at me. I grin. "I'll take that as a no, then."

His eyes focus on something behind me. "Looks like the reattachment's about to start. Hey, Hardy."

I look over my shoulder and, sure enough, there's Matt. He doesn't look happy. "Punk," he says with a nod.

"So I was just trying to talk McCool into joining the straightedge society. Don't you think she'd look cute with a shaved head?"

"Ugh, that isn't a good look for anyone," I say.

"What about you, Hardy? Want to join?"

"I'll pass, thanks," Matt says, coming up to stand beside me. It's weird how he changes when Punk's in the room. I can feel icicles forming between them.

"Pity," Punk says, "although I'm not really surprised. Say hi to your brother for me." Matt's fists clench and Punk smirks. "See you later, McCool."

"You okay, Matt?" I ask when Punk walks away.

"I'd like to beat the hell out of that guy," he mutters, staring after Punk.

I sigh and slip an arm around his waist. He breaks his death glare on Punk's retreating back to smile at me. "Hi."

"Hey," I say, grinning back at him like an idiot. "Sorry about earlier. I think Layla's feeling left out."

"It's okay, Michelle. I get that you have a life outside of hanging out with me. I'm just sorry that he's part of it."

I sigh. "Can we forget about Punk for now?"

"I wish I could. Say hi to my brother for him?" The angry expression is back on his face. "He's mocking me, and you don't see it."

"Of course I see it. He's Punk. He mocks people. That's just how he is. Just laugh it off next time, and he'll quit. He's trying to see where your limits are."

"Tell me again why you're friends with that guy?"

"Because I just am."

"Not good enough," he says.

I sigh. "Because he shows me a different side than the one you see. The matches with your brother brought out the worst in him, which is what you see. But if you won't be so defensive about the past, he may show you the side I see."

"I don't want to be friends with the guy."

"You don't have to be. But the two of you are going to have to learn to tolerate one another if you're going to stick around in my life."

Matt says, "Then I guess I'd better get used to him, because I'm not going anywhere."


	19. Heart to Heart

A/N: Skipping ahead a few days, or it'll take me 60 chapters to make it to Wrestlemania. :P

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers. My house isn't zoned for them. :(

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 19: Heart to Heart

By the time the Smackdown taping rolls around, I've been hanging out with Layla for three and a half days. Just the two of us. I feel like I could gnaw my own arm off if she drags me to one more stupid store. In fact, after the first night, things got so tense that I booked myself a separate room so that I could have some down time. I sleep late on the last day, since Layla was going to go do something. I couldn't tell you what it was; she told me, but by then, I was tuning her out. All I know is, it's a free day, and that's something I haven't had in ages. I don't know why I was surprised when someone knocked on my door around eleven am.

"Layla!" I growl, opening the door.

"Not hardly," Punk says with a smirk. "Though she was kind enough to give me your new room number."

"Go away." I start to shut the door, but he stops me.

"Wow, girl bonding time has not done anything for you, has it?"

"Punk, I'm serious. Go away."

"I never claimed you weren't serious," he says. "But no, I'm not going away. Sorry." He indicates the room. "Can I come in, please?"

"No." I sigh. "You coming in here would make the rumor mongers crazy. But I'll come out. There's a nice little coffee shop across the street. We'll go there."

"Fine," Punk says, leaning against the doorframe. "I'll wait here."

I shut the door, knowing that he'll start knocking like crazy if I'm not out in five minutes. He's done it before. So with a longing look at my bed, I throw on something cute and head for the door. "Let's go."

Punk looks up from his watch. "Four and a half minutes. You're learning."

I slip on my sunglasses- seriously, who has time for make up in four and a half minutes?- and we head for the elevators. "This had better be important."

"I hope you're less cranky when you've got some coffee in you," he mutters. "Seriously, are you going through caffeine withdrawals or something?" He turns to look at me with a frown. "Or is it something else you're missing? A certain dark haired Superstar, maybe?"

"If you mean you, Cuddle Monkey, then the answer is no."

"Why must you always be so mean, McCool?" he asks with a grin.

I follow him out of the elevator and down to the coffee shop. He orders himself a Pepsi- big shocker there- and I get myself something much more supercharged. He chooses a table away from the windows and we sit. "Now what is this about?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

"You tell me," he says.

I frown at him. "You dragged me out of my room for no good reason?"

Punk says, "I got a call from Layla this morning. I didn't even know she had my number, McCool. Regardless, she wanted to talk to me about you."

"What did she say?" I feel this sense of fascinated dread.

"Honestly, I couldn't make half of it out. I got the gist of it, though." He leans over the table. "So you and I are going to have a conversation about just what your intentions toward Matt Hardy are."

"Are you kidding me?" I ask. "What are you, his mother?"

Punk gives me his most intense look. "Normally, I would be asking him about his intentions, but since I don't think the two of us can be trusted not to try and beat the snot out of one another for longer than five minutes at a time- especially when it comes to you- I figured I'd find out what you're thinking."

"You know," I say, "I'm getting damned tired of everyone asking me what I'm thinking. You and Layla in particular. I am an adult, and I can make my own decisions."

Punk sighs. "I'm not asking what the hell you think you're doing; I'm asking what you're thinking. There's a difference. I don't want to see you get hurt, McCool, and I don't trust Hardy not to hurt you."

I smirk. "That's funny. He said the same thing about you, almost word for word."

Punk frowns. "Why would he think I'd hurt you?"

"Maybe because of the thing with his brother?"

Punk considers. "Fine. I'm the bad guy here. The evil, spooky, scary straightedged monster. Now can we move past that and get to what you're actually thinking already?"

"I don't know," I finally say. "This weekend has been really long and miserable, even though I wanted it to go well. Layla is annoying the crap out of me."

"That seems pretty normal to me," he says. I glare at him. "Sorry. Continue."

"Anyway, I've been feeling unhappy this whole weekend. Nothing we've done has been able to distract me for long." I meet his eyes across the table. "Matt calls me every night. It's the only time I've felt like things are okay. So take from that what you will."

He sits back and looks at me for a long moment. "Geez, McCool, you've got it bad for him, don't you?"

I start to deny it, and then I hesitate. "I suppose I do."

Punk nods. "Right. So where do we go from here?"

"What's this 'we' stuff?"

"Okay, I probably shouldn't tell you this," he says, leaning forward again, "but I'm going to, anyway. Outside of the straightedge society, you're one of the few people I count as a friend. And to be honest, I'm not so sure Gallows wouldn't turn on me in a second if he thought Serena would follow him. I trust you, McCool. You've never betrayed me, and I appreciate that."

I blink at him, surprised at the sentiment. "You're welcome."

He nods. "So now that that's out of the way… your intentions?"

"I don't know," I say. "I want to see where things go."

"Do you want me to try and find out what his intentions are for you?" He seems completely serious. I try to picture that meeting in my head and I honestly don't know whether to laugh or cry at the image.

"No, that's okay," I say. "It's kind of nice, being able to find my own way for once. I appreciate the offer, though."

"It'll still be there if you change your mind."

"No offense, Punk," I say, "but the last time you 'helped' me, you got his girlfriend fired."

"And the very next day, you were coming out of his room," Punk says, raising his brows at me. "A fact that I kept almost completely to myself. So I don't know what you're complaining about."

I sigh. "Just do me a favor and stay out of it, okay? Be nice- or as nice as you can be, considering- and don't interfere. Let things go however they're going to go." I pause, letting him take it all in. "And try not to antagonize him so much. He's still pretty ticked about your comment to him the last time he saw you."

"Which comment was that?"

"Say hi to your brother for me?"

Punk chuckles. "I'd forgotten about that. That was a good one." He holds up his hands. "Okay, fine. I'm going to stay out of it, and I'll try not to bait Hardy into a fight, okay?"

"Thanks, Punk."

"The things I do for your friendship, sunshine," he says with a shake of his head, "would make a lesser man cry."


	20. Bad Timing

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers. Also, I am not a wrestler, nor do I play one on TV. (Just in case anyone was wondering.)

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 20: Bad Timing

Punk walks me back to the hotel. "I assume you can find your own way from here," he says at the elevator.

"I'll manage." He gives me a lazy little wave as the doors close between us, and then I'm alone. It's weird how much talking to Punk cheered me up. Layla's been after me all weekend, trying to get me to be less moody. I can see now that I probably haven't been much fun the past few days. The doors open to my floor and I head down the hall, smiling and humming a tune. My mood continues to lift when I see Matt near my door. He's knocking, and his back is to me. I sneak up quietly and slide my arms around his waist. He tenses beneath my arms."Hi, Matt!"

At my voice, I feel him relax. "Michelle!" He turns so that he can put his arms around me. "You scared the hell out of me."

I grin. "Sorry."

"You don't look sorry," he says. "In fact, you look very smug."

"Do I?" I can't stop grinning at him. "I don't feel smug."

"Oh?" He smiles at me. "And what do you feel, then?"

"Happy."

"Good."

"I didn't think you were getting in until later."

"I caught an earlier flight," he says with a shrug. "I've got my Money in the Bank qualifier tonight against Drew McIntyre, and I wanted to put in a little extra gym time. And," he pauses, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "there was a certain Diva that mentioned that she was missing me last night, so I thought I'd come in and surprise her."

"Oh?" I say, raising my eyebrows. "Which one was that? I might have to teach her a lesson about encroaching on others' territory."

"That's cute," Matt says, leaning down so that our foreheads are touching. "But she's not encroaching on anyone's territory."

"Isn't she?"

"Not anymore, no." He smiles down at me. My heart is pounding. He's finally going to kiss me!

Or he would, if someone wasn't clearing their throat next to us. I groan and lift my head to see a very annoyed Layla. "This should be obvious," she says, "but you're in the hallway, not your room. Some of us would like to not witness your special moments, k?"

I'm about to make a snarky reply when Matt chuckles. "I think she's trying to tell us to get a room."

"No, I'm trying to tell you to _use _a room," Layla says. "There's a difference, Hardy." She glares at me. "I was going to ask how your talk with Punk went, but I guess I got my answer."

"Punk?" Matt asks, looking down at me.

I sigh, looking from him to the now retreating Layla. "I'll tell you later." With regret, I kiss his cheek and pull away from him. "Will you wait for me? I've got to go talk to her."

Matt nods. "Yeah. Do you want my room number?"

I dig through my pocket, then hand him my key card. "Just stay here, okay? I'll be right back, I promise."

He smiles at me and opens the room. "Don't be too long, Michelle."

"I won't." I sprint for the room I'd been sharing with Layla two days ago. It's around a bend in the hallway, so I very nearly run smack into her and Punk.

He steadies me with a little frown, and says to Layla, "I was trying to tell you."

Layla glares at me. "I asked you to come and talk some sense into her, not convince her to… to make out with Hardy in the hallway."

Punk turns to me, surprised. "You work fast, don't you? We've been back all of ten minutes, and you've managed to locate Hardy _and_ make out with him in the hall? I'm impressed."

"We weren't making out," I mutter. "And he was waiting at my door when I got back."

"So it's not that impressive, then," Punk says. He turns back to Layla, "Regardless, what I was trying to say is that, like it or not, I think Hardy's here to stay. You told me yourself that Michelle was miserable this whole weekend. At least when she's hanging around Hardy, she seems happy." I grin and give Punk a hug. "Geez, McCool, control yourself!" he says, though his arm drops around my shoulder loosely. "First you're making out with Hardy, and then you're hugging the straightedge Superstar not five minutes later. People will talk!" He winks at me.

Layla snarls, "Whatever!" and swipes her key a little more viciously than necessary. She slams the room door shut a moment later, leaving Punk and I in the hall, blinking in her wake.

"What was that all about?" I ask.

"Ah," Punk sighs, "honestly? If I had to guess, I'd say she thinks she's lost her best friend to some guy. A guy that you two used to make fun of, no less." He gives me a quick little hug before letting his arm slide off my shoulder. "But don't worry too much about it. If she's really your friend, she'll come around eventually." He smirks at me. "So… Hardy, huh?"

I shrug. "Yeah."

"Guess I'd better get used to being polite again." He grins. "Do you think it's too soon to ask him out to brunch?"

"Yes," I say with a snicker. "It's definitely too soon."


	21. Finally!

A/N: This is not going to get racy. I don't write sex scenes, although they may sometimes be implied.

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers, just their goofy dialogue.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 21: Finally!

I part ways with Punk at the stairs, then head back to my room. I expect to have to knock, but Matt's got the door propped open the slightest bit. I grin and push it open, taking in the sight of a very relaxed Matt Hardy on the bed. He sits up when I shut the door. "So, what was this about Punk?"

I sit down beside him and take a breath. "I guess Layla called him and asked him to come see me."

"Why?"

"From what I gathered, she wanted him to talk some sense into me regarding you."

Matt says, "Do you need sense talked into you?"

I smile. "Maybe. I'm glad you're here, Matt."

"Me too," he says, putting his arm around me. "But don't change the subject."

I chuckle. "So Punk showed up at my door this morning and told me we needed to talk. We ended up going to a coffee shop down the road. That's where I was coming back from when I saw you in the hall." He nods. "Anyway, we had a heart to heart, and Punk asked me what my intentions are with you."

"Seriously?" Matt asks, making a face.

"Seriously."

"So what did you tell him?"

"I said I didn't know."

"Oh."

"I told him the only time I've been happy this whole weekend is when you and I were talking on the phone." That earns me a smile. I smile back, then look down. This next part is tricky for me. "Which made him suggest that I have it bad for you."

"Hm," he says. Hm? I can't help it, I look up at him. Matt's grinning ear to ear. "Do you?"

I feel my heart pounding again. "Yes," I whisper.

Matt pulls me close. "Good," he says, his soft breath tickling my ear. I shiver at the sensation, and turn my head so that we're face to face. The look in his eyes is so intense that I'm scared to meet it for long. My eyes slip closed, and for a moment, there's nothing except the anticipation holding me there. Then, his lips meet mine in a gentle caress. It's a sweet kiss. Nothing else matters in that moment; not my friends, not his ex, nothing. For that one brief moment, everything is perfect.

But of course, that moment ends, and I launch myself up from the bed, blushing furiously. "So, uh…"

Matt blinks at me. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," I say, trying not to feel like an idiot. "I just never… felt anything quite like that before."

He grins. "Thank you?"

I sit back down on the bed. "Don't gloat. It's unbecoming of you."

He laughs. "Sorry. It's just that I kissed you and you bolted. It's adorable."

"It's dorky."

"We'll compromise. It was adorkable." He puts his arm around me again. "So I hate to even ask…"

"What?"

"Speaking of adorkable," he says, trying to keep a straight face, "does this mean that you're my girlfriend now?"

I stare at him. "First you kiss me, and then you ask? Geez, Hardy, way to do things in reverse."

"Is that a yes?"

"I don't know," I say, in my best mock serious voice. "I'm not sure my reputation can take the hit. People will talk."

"Some of them already are," he points out. "Believe me. My reputation is more likely to take the hit than yours."

"Please!" I say. "You're going to be well liked, no matter what we do." I pause. "But… just out of curiosity… did you tell your brother about us?"

Matt hugs me to him. "Yep."

"And?"

"Are you really worried about it?"

"Yes!" I say, meeting his eyes.

Matt shrugs. "He's never had any problems with you. He actually laughed and said, 'Good for you!' when I told him. I think he's just happy to see me acting less miserable than he expected. Especially after the Maria thing."

"Oh. Good then."

"But you didn't answer the question." He must see the confusion on my face. "About whether or not you're my girlfriend?"

I laugh. "Yes."

"Awesome," Matt says, which just makes me laugh even more.

"You know, if anyone asks why we're together, I'm going to tell them that we're made for each other."

"Are we?" he asks with a grin.

"Completely," I say. "We're both completely adorkable."

"I guess if we ever tag together, we've got our name. Team Adorkable"

"Sadly, I think it's a team name that would fit half the roster," I say.

"Yeah," he sighs, "but we'd rock it so much better than they would."


	22. An Invitation

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 22: An Invitation

For a change, Layla and I don't have a match. That's a good thing, because she's still in a bad mood. She leaves for the arena without me, leaving me to bum a ride from Matt. I don't mind; we're comfortable again. It seems like a lot of the tension I was feeling with him eased when he kissed me. When he asks me if I'll be ringside for his match, I don't even hesitate. Matt's match is early in the show, after an announcement by Teddy Long about McIntyre's loss to Kane last week being expunged from his record. Matt and I listen, hands entwined, as Teddy says that McIntyre's going to have another match. "Ready for this?" Matt whispers, squeezing my hand.

"More than ready," I say.

Matt's music hits, and we stroll out together, hand in hand. There's a mutter going through the audience, like they can't believe what they're seeing. Matt leads me down to ringside and I break off and take a seat. I can hear a very confused Todd Grisham asking Matt Striker what he thinks is going on between Matt and I. I could clear that up, but I won't. Instead, I flash a grin their way and settle in to watch the match.

It's a good match with a lot of back and forth. Just when it looks like Matt's going to lose, he manages to reverse a near fall and wins the match. The crowd's going wild as Matt slides from the ring and walks my way. He grabs my hand and says, "We'd better get out of here before this gets violent." We're halfway up the ramp when McIntyre gets out of the ring and heads for the announce table. I see him rip the top off the table and start screaming at the announcers, and then Matt and I are backstage.

"I'd better go take a shower," Matt says, leaning down to kiss me. "Meet you in catering afterwards?"

"Sounds good to me," I say. I'm tempted to stop by my locker room, but I decide against it at the last minute. Layla's probably not there, anyway. I start for catering, only to be stopped by Drew McIntyre.

"What was that?" he asks.

"What was what?"

"You and Hardy, holding hands?"

I smile. "We're dating."

Drew doesn't look like he believes me. "April Fool's Day is still a month off," he says.

"It isn't a joke."

He frowns. "I thought you were better than that." And before I can protest, he's headed away.

Catering is full, of course. When I step into the room, it goes from the usual noisy chatter to a hush. Heads turn, and everyone is staring at me. I glance down to see if I'm wearing something offensive. Nope, the usual "Flawless" shirt. When I look up, I realize that people aren't just quiet, they're whispering. I clear my throat. "What the hell, people?" I look around the room. Layla's there, but she won't meet my eyes. Punk's with the straightedge society in the back, as usual. He grimaces at me in sympathy, poised at the edge of his table. I think he's debating whether or not I need rescuing from this situation.

It's John Morrison who answers the question. "We want to know what the hell it is you think you're doing with Matt Hardy?"

I bristle at the comment, but Matt arrives just then and saves me from answering by putting his arms around my waist. "She probably thinks she's being my girlfriend. I'd like to know why you think it's any of your business?"

"Look, man, we all thought it was harmless when you were making goo goo eyes at each other last week," Morrison says. "But taking her out in front of the audience on camera? This isn't some stupid house show, Hardy. Your reputation is on the line."

"Do I look like I care?" Matt asks.

People look shocked. Morrison says, "Hey, whatever," and holds up his hands.

"Matt," I say, "maybe you ought to… uh, try to smooth this over with your friends?"

Matt says, "They're just going to have to accept this, Michelle. It's not going to go away."

Before I can reply, Punk approaches. I glance back at Matt, who's eyeing him warily. "Hardy," Punk says with a nod, and there's something almost like warmth in his voice.

"Punk," Matt says.

We're standing there awkwardly, Matt with his arms around me and Punk studying us as though there will be a test later. It's a really tense moment that's making my stomach ache. Finally, when I can't take it any more, Punk says, "Are you _sure_ it's too soon to ask him to brunch?"

I laugh because the comment is so unexpected. "I don't know. Matt, do you want to go to brunch tomorrow?" I look back at him, and he looks confused.

"Brunch?"

Punk says, "We may have had our differences in the past, Hardy, but you're not a bad guy." He shifts his gaze to me. "You're doing okay for yourself, McCool."

Matt's staring at Punk as though he's speaking a foreign language. "That's his way of admitting that you're not a loser," I tell him.

Punk makes a face at me. "Thank you, translator girl."

"Any time, Cuddle Monkey." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I think, _Ah, crap. That was a mistake._ Matt's arms around me tighten, and Punk gives me a surprised look.

"Cuddle Monkey?" Matt asks, his voice quiet.

"Er," I say, "he wouldn't tell me what the C.M. stands for."

Matt's literally shaking and his face is red. Oh, man. I cringe, waiting for the explosion I'm sure is coming. "Hardy," Punk warns, but that's all the further he gets.

Matt explodes, all right. He releases me so he can double over with laugher. There are tears in his eyes. "Cuddle Monkey?" he manages to choke out between gasps.

Punk turns to me. "You just had to say it, didn't you?"

I shrug, helpless. "It just sort of slipped out."

"I'll remember that, sunshine," he says with a smirk. "Gallows! Serena!" Punk's two "followers" jump up and head our way. "Let's get out of here. It's almost time for our appearance, anyway."

"Sorry, Punk!" I call after him. He doesn't turn around, but he does wave at me.

Everyone is staring again, but this time, they're watching Matt as he rolls around on the floor, gasping for air and laughing at poor Cuddle Monkey.


	23. Brunch

A/N: C. M. Punk = weirdly obsessed with brunch.

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 23: Brunch

I'm running late. Check out time may be noon, but I was supposed to meet Matt in the lobby at ten. It's ten after ten, and I'm still in the room. Matt's on the other end of the phone. "I'm sorry," I tell him. "The wake up call never came in this morning. If you hadn't called me, I'd still be asleep."

I hear him sigh. "I'm going to go ahead to the restaurant," he tells me. "Try not to take too long, okay?"

"Sure," I say. "See you in a bit." We hang up and, despite the stress, I manage to smile.

Surprisingly, it takes me maybe ten minutes, make up and all, to get ready. The restaurant is next door to the hotel, which is good because otherwise I'd have to beg Layla for a ride and outside of the ring, we're not speaking. I'd feel shunned if I weren't so happy.

Stepping into the restaurant, I see Punk and Matt almost immediately. They're leaning across the table to one another, deep in conversation. Punk's speaking, Matt's nodding, and no one is trying to kill anyone else. I stand at the entrance for a long moment, savoring the sight. The hostess comes over to help me, and I say, "I'm all right here for a minute. I see my party." She shrugs and walks away.

Matt sees me first. His gaze breaks from Punk's and he smiles and waves, causing Punk to pause and look my way. I head to the table, strangely reluctant to break up their conversation. "McCool," Punk says with a nod.

"Sorry I'm late. I didn't want to interrupt your conversation. It looked intense." I sit down next to Matt, and he slips his arm over my shoulder.

"It was," Matt says.

I look between the two of them. "Oh? What were you discussing?"

Punk shakes his head. "It's not important."

The little alarm in my head is going off now. "Why don't I believe you, Cuddle Monkey?"

Matt snickers. Punk says, "I really wish you'd quit calling me that in public places. Especially since your boyfriend finds it so amusing."

Matt's the one who answers. "Punk was threatening to kill me." He says it in such a matter of fact way that it actually takes me a moment to register what the words mean.

"Oh." Then my brain decodes the words. "Wait, what?"

Matt grins. Punk rolls his eyes and says, "Not outright kill him! I'd make it look like an accident."

I'm stunned. "But why would you be sitting here discussing that?"

"Relax, Michelle," Matt says. "We're kidding. Mostly."

"Though if you break her heart, you'll see how serious I am," Punk says mildly before taking a sip of his orange juice.

None of this seems to phase Matt, which makes me wonder if they had, in fact, gone over this. "Okay then," I mutter.

Punk pushes a menu toward me. "Better figure out what you want before too much longer, McCool." He smirks. Just as I'm about to ask him what he means by that, he says, "The waitress is coming over here."

"Oh." I stare at the menu thoughtfully.

The waitress comes and we place our orders. When she leaves again, Punk asks, "So who are you riding with today, McCool?"

Both of them are watching me. "I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it. I usually ride with Layla…"

"I think she left already," Punk says.

I blink. "Really? Huh. I guess I ought to call her." Luckily, I brought my phone for once. I try to call Layla, but it rings twice, then goes to voicemail. Frowning, I send her a text: "Where are you?"

Matt and Punk start to discuss something. I'm not sure what; my entire focus is on my phone. Their voices are pleasant background noise. When the phone beeps, I push the button to read the text. "Leave me alone."

I frown and push the phone away. "Problem?" Punk asks, interrupting Matt mid-sentence.

"You tell me," I say to Punk. "You seem to know much more about my best friend than I do right now."

Punk sighs and pulls out his phone. "Give me a minute." He digs through the recent calls, finds Layla's number, and dials. "It's ringing," he tells me, and then he says into the phone, "Layla?" I can hear her from across the table. Her voice is loud and strident. Matt pulls me closer to him. "Uh huh. She is." Punk pauses, eyeing me. "I think she wants to know whether you're riding together today." Pause. "Well, there's no need for that kind of language!" He smirks. "Okay, sure. I'll tell her. Yep, goodbye." He hangs up, then says, "Looks like you need a ride to the next show. Probably wouldn't hurt to book a room, too. Unless you two are planning to share?"

My face feels hot. "We just started dating. I don't think we should rush into anything that's going to make things more complicated right now."

"Good thinking," Punk says. "So… how are you getting to the next show?"

As I was considering it, Matt says, "You can ride with me again."

"That sounds great," I say, relieved.

"Great!" Punk says, smiling. "Oh, and er… while we're on the subject, do you guys think I could catch a ride?"

I turned to stare at him. "We don't need a chaperone, Punk."

"I'm not suggesting you do. But last week, when I fell asleep in the backseat of the car, I woke up to Luke and Serena whispering about something. They stopped as soon as I sat up. It's making me nervous."

Suddenly, his earlier comments about Gallows made more sense to me. I look at Matt, who's frowning. "How are you going to get out of riding with them?" I ask. "They're going to be suspicious if you suddenly say that you're riding with us."

Punk sighs. "Serena made a not so subtle suggestion this morning that I might want to make other arrangements. She said that Gallows was still ticked that I flew in early yesterday and didn't tell them until they were already here. He's been shooting me dirty looks the last two days."

Matt finally speaks up. "I don't know. My girlfriend seems to think you're okay, but I'm not convinced. You're not going to try and talk us into going straightedge the entire drive, are you?"

"Of course not, Hardy," Punk says. "I know a lost cause when I see one."

I wince. Matt chuckles. "What do you think, Michelle? Should we let him tag along?"

"Why not? It's only four hours," I say.

Matt says, "Okay, Punk. You can ride with us. Don't make me regret it."


	24. On the Road

A/N: I had so much fun with this chapter. Hope you guys like it.

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers. I love them anyway.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 24: On the Road

Here's the thing about Punk: He doesn't like normal music. He also doesn't want to hear couples talk. In short, he's a pain in the ass to have in the car when he's not in charge of the radio or the topic. I'm trying to find neutral topics so that we don't have to turn on the radio, and so that he and Matt don't resort to fighting again. In the second hour of the trip, I thought they were going to kill each other. I actually had to take Matt's keys so that he wouldn't drive off when we stopped at a gas station. Yeah, this was a bad idea. But we're almost there, and I just have to fill the last twenty minutes or so of the deadly silence.

"How are the pictures coming along?" I ask Matt.

"Pictures? You mean the ones I'm sending to Tara and Tony?"

"Yes."

Matt gives me a smile. He looks relieved. "Not too bad. I've got to get a few more signed and then I'll send the last batch." He pauses. "That one with you and Layla is in this batch, and I don't think she's going to sign it if I ask."

"I doubt she will if I ask, either," I admit. "Punk?"

"What?" I look back at him and discover that he's toying with his hair. "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening."

"Do you think you could ask Layla to sign a picture for me?"

Punk pauses, his gaze going from his hair to me. "Um, McCool?"

"Yes?"

"You've known Layla a long time, right?"

"Yes. But what does that have to do with…"

Punk interrupts me. "So if you want her autograph… which I don't get, by the way… maybe you should stop acting like a fangirl and just ask her?" I give him a confused look. "Why do you want her autograph, anyway? Are you starting a book of WWE autographs or something? If that's the case, why haven't you asked for mine yet? I'm a way bigger star than Layla!"

Matt snickers. I stare at Punk. "You really _weren't_ listening, were you?"

"I'm sorry," he says. "But you guys just keep talking about boring stuff! I'd sleep if I could get past the sound of your voices!"

"Do you remember when I brought Tara over to meet you?"

"I remember," he says, his tone sullen. "You told her to call me Mr. Cuddle Monkey." Matt's cracking up. I eye him, hoping he won't swerve us into the next lane. "Shut up, Hardy," Punk says, smacking Matt on the shoulder.

"Hey!" Matt protests. "No abusing the driver!"

"Punk," I say, "focus. I took a picture with Tara and Layla and I need Layla to sign it. She's not talking to me, and Matt won't be able to get her to sign it. So I was thinking maybe you could get her to sign it for me."

Punk sits back in his seat. "You're asking me for help?"

"Yes."

"Even after…" He stops and shakes his head. "Never mind."

I know what he's thinking, and I'm glad he doesn't say it. "Yeah. Do you think you can ask her for me? I'd owe you one."

Punk sighs. "Fine, McCool. But only because you agree you'll owe me one."

I smirk. "Nice to know where your priorities are, Punk."

"You knew you could count on me, or you wouldn't even ask," Punk says, smirking back at me. "There was never any doubt in your mind that I would, was there?"

"There's always some doubt."

He rolls his eyes at me. "Sure, McCool. Just keep telling yourself that."

"I'll get them to you tonight in catering, then," Matt says. "Unless you want to come with me to my room while I look for them?"

Punk is quiet for a long moment. "Gee, Hardy, I like you and everything, but I somehow doubt McCool would approve."

Matt turns red and I lean back to smack Punk's shoulder. "Ha ha. Catering it is."

"Ow," Punk says, rubbing his shoulder. "I'd like to know why you always hurt the ones you love, sunshine."

I sigh. "Who says I love you?"

Punk gives me his best sad puppy look. "You don't?" He fake sniffles. "But… but I thought I was your Cuddle Monkey?" Matt snickers again. "Shush, Hardy, I'm trying to earn your girlfriend's love here."

I say, "Aw, poor Cuddle Monkey. I'm sorry. I love you, okay?"

"Yay!" Punk says, bouncing in the backseat. He grins at me, then leans over the front seat so that he is next to Matt's ear. "Hey, Hardy. Hardy."

"What?" Matt asks.

"Michelle loves me!" Punk says in a sing song voice, laughing at the end.

Matt glances at me. "The next time he asks for a six pack of Pepsi, say no."

Punk sits back, pouting. "Why is he so rude?" he asks me.

I give Punk my best bright smile. "Because he loves you, too, and you always hurt the ones you love, remember?"

"It's true, Cuddle Monkey," Matt says, trying very hard to keep a straight face.

"Really?" Punk asks, batting his eyes at Matt. "Aw, I love you, tooo, Matty Matt!"

The three of us are laughing when we pull into the hotel lot. Despite the tension in the earliest part of the trip, I think we're all going to make it through the day as friends.


	25. Layla

A/N: Not a long chapter, but a necessary one.

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 25: Layla

It's another house show. Layla has a match, but I don't. Nevertheless, team Lay-Cool goes out together. Matt agrees to meet me in catering after the match, so I'll have time to talk to Layla. "Good crowd tonight," I say to her, as we're walking back from her match. They're loud and rowdy and booing us as we leave. She grunts a reply, not looking at me as we make our way up the ramp. Once we're backstage, I grab her arm. "Hey, Layla."

"What?" she snaps at me.

I'm tempted to pull my hand back in the face of her anger, but I don't. "Can we talk, please?"

She smirks. "Now you want to talk? After two weeks of more or less ignoring me for Matt freaking Hardy?"

"Yeah. I do want to talk. I don't want it to be like this."

Layla looks furious. She jerks her arm away from me and storms to the locker room we're sharing. I follow her in, and she turns on me. "You win, okay?" she said. "We made a bet, and you win. Now can you just make him go away?"

I sigh. "Layla… It isn't like that. I don't care about the stupid bet any more, all right? I wish we'd never made it, and that I'd become his friend under different circumstances."

She glares at me. "I wish you were still _my_ friend, Michelle. Punk says you're happy, but how can you be? You've picked one of the most pathetic guys on the roster and now you're holding his hand on TV? You're damaging your reputation!"

"I don't care about my reputation!" I say. At her words, anger has been building in my chest. "You know what? He and Punk _hated_ each other. The three of us just spent the afternoon in a car together. By the time we got here, they were joking around like old friends. And you know how judgmental Punk can be. Why can't you just give the guy a chance?"

"Why are you so taken with him all the sudden?" Layla counters.

"He's… good," I say with a shrug.

"Which is precisely why it'll never last." Her words sting. "You don't want someone 'good', Michelle. You want someone who is as devious as you are. You want someone who won't be appalled when you show your true self to them. And that person will never be Matt Hardy. You're lying to him and to yourself, and in the long run, you're going to get hurt. And in the meantime, you're throwing away our friendship over this guy."

"I'm not the one who's throwing it away, Layla," I say. "I want to be friends with you."

"Are you going to dump Hardy?" I shake my head, and she sighs. "Then I guess there's nothing more to say, is there? Creative wants us to stay a team; I asked. We're stuck working together until Wrestlemania, at the least. Probably until the draft. So we'll be making happy faces for the crowd, as usual. But when the matches are over, I want you to stay the hell away from me because I want nothing to do with you and your loser."

I bite my lip. As mean and aggressive as she's being, Layla has been my best friend for a long damned time. Tears sting my eyes. "If that's the way you want it…"

"That's the way it is," she says with finality. "At least until you come to your senses and dump Hardy." She doesn't look at me. "I hope you changed your room booking."

"I did," I say, and the words sound watery to my ears.

She nods. "And you'll have to make other ride arrangements. I'll move back to the main Diva locker room at the next show." She looks up at me, and her eyes are clear. I can barely see through mine, but that detail is readily apparent. "If you see me in the halls, pretend you don't know my name, and I'll do the same for you." And with that final wisdom, she brushes past me. "I'm going to grab a snack from catering and head to the Diva locker room after. Then it's all yours, loser lover." I hear the door close behind her, but I'm too engrossed in my tears to really pay it any mind.

I'm sitting on a sofa off to one side when a soft knock sounds on the door. I don't answer. I can't. I'm still wrapped up in my own soggy world, feeling as though my chest were about to explode. I don't hear the door open and close again, and I'm oblivious to whatever's being said. But I do feel the arms that wrap around me tight, and I bury my head into the shoulder of the person who's holding me. His words are soothing nonsense as I try to cope with the loss of my best friend.


	26. Aftermath

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 26: Aftermath

"Feel better?" he asks, when I'm done crying all over him.

"No," I say. "I'm completely miserable."

He hugs me again with a sigh. "It'll be okay, sunshine. If she's not willing to be happy for you, then she's not much of a friend."

The words make sense, but they're still hard to hear. "Punk?"

"Hmm?" He leans away from me for a moment to retrieve the tissue box that's on the dressing table. Normally, I use it to blot lipstick. Tonight, I'm using it to blot tears. I clutch the tissue that Punk hands me and meet his eyes.

"Please tell me you're not going to run off on me, too."

"Of course not. Unless Luke and Serena kill me in my sleep."

It's meant to cheer me up, but it doesn't. "Aside from Matt, you're the only friend I have left. Wow, how sad is my life?"

Punk smiles at me. "It's not all bad. I got Layla to sign that picture for you. "

I blink at him. "You did?"

He shrugs. "She stormed into catering, and I cornered her. Told her that her little fan would be disappointed if she didn't sign it."

"And that worked?" I ask in disbelief.

He smirks. "Of course not. But me mentioning that Vince doesn't like Divas who are rude to fans and that we've lost one Diva already this year made her pick up the pen and scribble her name."

"You threatened to go to Vince?"

"Yes. And since I heard that she was trying to make waves in creative yesterday…"

"She told me she'd asked about disbanding Lay-Cool," I say.

Punk nods. "She needs you more than you need her, McCool. If she demands Lay-Cool get disbanded and then it's mentioned to Vince that she's not on board with her fans, well. That's probably the end of her career."

"I'm not trying to get her fired, Punk."

"Fair enough. I…" A knock interrupts whatever he was about to say. "That's probably Hardy," he says, standing up and heading to the door. He pulls it open and sure enough, there's Matt.

"I couldn't find her…" Matt trails off when he sees me. "Michelle?" He sweeps into the room and takes up the seat Punk vacated, his arms around me.

"Well, you look like you've got this handled," Punk says. "If you two will excuse me, I'm going to go change my shirt. Mine seems to be soppy, for some reason." He makes a face at me, and I manage a small, watery chuckle.

"Punk?" I say, before he can step out.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

He grins at me. "Just remember, you owe me for the signing. The house call's free, though." And with a wink, he's gone, the door falling closed behind him.

"Are you all right?" Matt asks me, his warm eyes meeting mine.

"I will be," I say, snuggling close to him.

"What happened? I saw Layla come in and grab a water, but you never came back. When Layla left, Punk handed me the picture, signed, and said that maybe we ought to see what was keeping you."

"Layla," I said, taking a shuddery breath, "has decided that she no longer wants to be my friend."

He squeezes me. "I'm sorry. Was it because of me?"

"It's not you so much as it's _us_," I say.

Matt sighs. "Look, Michelle, if you don't want to do this, I'll understand."

"Do what?"

He shrugs. "Date? Be friends? Whatever it is that we're doing that seems to be getting in the way."

"Matt…" I shake my head. "Are you saying that you want to end this?"

"No! I just… don't know if you do."

"I don't. You and Punk are the only friends I have right now, and if you decide to go, too…"

He kisses me, long and slow. I can feel the sparks between us, and it's amazing. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against mine. "Does that answer your question?"

"If I say no, will you kiss me again?"

Matt laughs. "I'll kiss you again anyway, if that's what you want. But if you're still not clear how I feel about you, I'd like to know. You're amazing, Michelle. You're beautiful and funny and smart. I have no idea what led you into the park a couple of weeks ago, and I'm still sorry for running you down with that box and all…" We grin at each other. "But honestly, I have to say that was one of the best days of my life. Except they keep getting better from there, and it's because of you. I love how you light up when we talk. I loved how good you were with Tara. I love how you didn't even hesitate when I asked you to be ringside last night." He pauses. "And I really think I'm falling in love with you."

As much as Layla's words had felt like my heart being shredded, Matt's are doing something else again to my heart. "I'm falling in love with you, too," I say softly.

Matt smiles at me and grabs a tissue from the box on my lap so he can wipe away my tears. "Then let's try to put the sadness behind us and be happy tonight, okay? We can rent a movie and cuddle up on the couch."

"Where?" I ask.

He says, "Oh, did I forget to mention that I've got a studio suite tonight? There's a very nice living area. It's bigger than my first apartment."

"That sounds nice. But maybe we'd better have something to eat first. I haven't had anything since we got here."

"Good point," Matt says. "Well, my dear, what would you like for dinner?"

"I don't care," I say, "so long as I can steal your french fries."


	27. Punk's Problem

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers. Every time I offer to buy one, they file a restraining order.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 27: Punk's Problem

Despite how horribly the night started out, it ended well. I won't say I forgot about Layla, but Matt kept me distracted enough with dinner and the movie and snuggling on the couch. By the time the movie was over, I was tired and ready to go back to my room. Matt walked me to my room, and we said goodnight at the door. I fell into bed, exhausted, and was asleep instantly.

I wake on my own for the first time in a week. A look at the clock tells me that it was earlier than I was used to. I know there's no way I can go back to sleep, so I reach for my phone. We'd brought Punk back to the hotel with us last night, and his room wasn't too far from mine, but I don't want to wake him if he isn't already up. I dial his number and wait to see if it will ring or not.

"What?" he snaps into the phone.

"Punk?"

At the sound of my voice, his softens. "Oh, hey, McCool. I thought you were… someone else."

"Sorry," I say.

"Don't be." He pauses. "So what's going on? Why are you up so early?"

I chuckle. "Couldn't sleep this morning."

"Still feeling bad about yesterday, sunshine?" he asks.

"A little," I admit. "I'd have called Matt, but I know he's not up yet, and I thought you might be."

"I've been up about thirty minutes," he confirms. "Do you want to go get some coffee or something? Maybe grab breakfast?"

I bite my lip, considering. "Should we wake Matt?"

"Let him sleep," Punk says. "Bring your phone, and if he wakes up before we're done, he can come down and join us."

"Sounds reasonable," I say. "When should we meet?"

"How long will it take you to get ready?"

I consider. "Fifteen minutes, tops."

"Great. Meet you down in the lobby." We hang up, and I rush around like an idiot, trying to get ready in my allotted time. I make it down with five minutes to spare, but of course, Punk's already waiting for me in the lobby. "Got your phone?" he asks. "We don't want loverboy to panic."

I pat my pocket. "Got it."

Together, we stroll out the door and down the street, finally finding a little diner that's serving breakfast. Neither of us is all that hungry, though, so Punk orders his Pepsi and I get a coffee. Once we're settled, Punk leans forward. "Things looked pretty cozy in the car last night."

"They went all right," I say.

"Do you want to talk about the Layla thing?"

I shake my head. "I just want to think about something else this morning."

Punk studies me for a moment before looking down at his hands. "I may have just the thing to take your mind off it."

"Oh?"

"This stays between you and me, McCool," he says, looking up to meet my eyes.

"Of course," I say.

"I mean it. I don't even want Hardy to know."

"Punk, I'm not going to tell anyone."

"Okay." He sighs. "I think Luke is plotting against me."

"Why would you think that?"

"It's a feeling, mainly. But Hardy said something at brunch yesterday, before you showed up. Something about seeing Gallows talking to people he normally wouldn't talk to."

I frown. "Like who?"

"His former tag partner, for one."

"You're worried because Gallows was talking to Jesse?"

Punk nods. "Hardy said they had a long conversation, at least ten minutes. I saw him talking to Rey Mysterio last week."

"Okay, so he's talking to some of the other superstars. What's the problem?"

"I know it sounds stupid," Punk says, "but he denies that he's ever talked to them when I ask."

"Maybe he's worried about what you'll say?"

He shrugs. "Between the things I'm hearing from Hardy and seeing for myself, I don't know what to think. Serena basically threw me out of my own rental car yesterday, and Luke looked disappointed when I showed up last night. I'm telling you, McCool, there's something going on here, and I don't like it."

"I'm not going to be much help for you, unfortunately," I say. "Everyone knows we're friends."

"I know. Hardy's said he'll keep an ear to the ground for me."

"Is that what you two were discussing so intently at brunch yesterday?"

"What, you thought he was serious with that death threat joke?" Punk chuckles.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Yesterday, you had your own issues to deal with. Today, you look like you might be thinking clearer."

"You mean I need distracting."

"That too," Punk says.

"Okay, I need the distraction," I agree. "But what can I do to help you? I can't stalk Gallows. No one is going to buy that."

"I don't want you to stalk him; just keep an eye out. If you see anything suspicious, let me know."

I nod. "I'll do that."

"Thank you." He opens his mouth to say something else, but my phone rings. Punk glances at it. "Better take that."

It's Matt. "Hey, where are you?" he asks.

"Down the street, getting a coffee with Punk. You want to come down, maybe have breakfast?"

"Sure, sounds fun." I give him directions, and he says, "See you guys in five."

"I can't wait," I say. We hang up and I look at Punk. "He's on his way." Punk nods. "Hey, don't worry too much about Gallows. He's nothing without the straightedge society."

"Neither am I, sunshine."

I shake my head. "You're wrong. You're an amazing guy in your own right. Maybe if Gallows takes it over, you can go back to being cheered instead of booed."

Punk smirks. "Do you really think I care what the fans do?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

He shrugs. "Cheers or boos are pretty much the same thing in this business. As long as they're paying attention to you, who cares what noise they're making? Come on, you know that."

"I used to," I say, "but now? I'm not so sure anymore."


	28. Making Plans

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 28: Making Plans

We don't talk about Punk's problems or mine over breakfast. In fact, it's a pretty quiet meal. Matt keeps looking at me, as though he's worried about something. Finally, when I can't stand that look on his face any more, I ask him, "What's the matter?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," I say. "Eventually."

"All right," Matt says. "Hey, so do you two want to watch Smackdown together tomorrow night?"

Punk grins. "I'd love another look at the audience's reaction to you and McCool, holding hands on the way to the ring."

"Oh, man," I say. "I'd forgotten about that."

Matt says, "How could you forget it? They were completely stunned. So? You guys want to come over?"

"Sure," I say. "Where are we going to watch it at?"

Now he looks unsure. "Um, well, I thought you might like to fly in for the weekend, and hang out at my house?"

Punk's eyes narrow. "Your house? As in, the house in the same town that your brother lives in?"

"Yeah," Matt says.

"As in, I'd probably end up on the front freaking page of some tabloid because I'm hanging out with the Hardy Boyz?" Punk continues.

"Are the tabloids stalking you or something, Punk?" Matt asks. "Because we don't generally see them near my house. Besides, we could keep things quiet. It's a small community, but you won't be the first wrestler that ever came over. It'll be fun."

Punk looks at me. "I think it sounds like fun," I say to them. "But I'm a little nervous about hanging with your brother, Matt."

"Why?" Matt asks. "He's not a horrible person, and he's not holding anything against you. Besides, he very seldom comes over to watch Smackdown with me any more."

"If I go, I'm going to feel weird about it," Punk says. "I mean, you two will be snuggling and where is that going to leave Jeff and I?" He pauses. "And if either of you says 'snuggling', so help me…"

I laugh. "It would be an interesting dynamic. Punk and Jeff Hardy, snuggling."

Punk eyes me. "I know where you sleep, McCool."

"For one more night, anyway."

"As much as I'd like to see the fan reaction," Punk says, "I'll pass. You two are already doing too much damage to my reputation as it is."

"Seriously?" Matt says. "No one actually cares, Punk. I don't know what you did to make the tabloids stalk you, and I really don't want to know. It'll be low key, I promise." He smirks. "And we won't even play the drinking game this time."

"What drinking game?" I ask.

Matt's trying not to laugh, I can tell. "The one where we take a drink every time Punk speaks, of course."

Punk facepalms. "So not helping your case here, Hardy."

"Maybe we'd be better off watching it on neutral ground?" I ask. "I mean, if you want Punk to come. Invite Jeff if you want. We can hang at a hotel or something."

"We already do so much of that," Matt says. "I thought you might want a change."

"I get a change just about every night. Let's get in early to the next venue and stay over. We can still hang out together," I say.

"And then even more people will see Punk hanging out with us," Matt says. "Not that it bothers me. Well, except when someone comes up and asks me how I can betray my brother like that."

"What?" I ask, blinking.

Punk smirks. "Brunch yesterday, before you showed up. Some lady asked Hardy how he could betray his brother by being seen with scum like me."

"She wasn't a lady," Matt mutters. "She was an angry, angry walrus." I lose it. Punk and I are both laughing. Matt frowns at us. "What?"

"An angry, angry walrus?" I repeat, through my laugher.

"Woman!" Matt says. "I said woman!"

"Not what I heard," Punk says. He looks at me, I look at him, and we're out of control again.

Matt's face is red. "Why would I call her a walrus?"

Punk puts his head down on the table, his shoulders still shaking from laughter. I hug Matt. "I don't know why you'd say it," I tell him, "but I'm glad you did. The last couple of days have been kind of gloomy and stressful, and I'm tired of feeling that way. So yes, I'll come to your house." I lean over and nudge Punk. "And so will he."

Punk peeks at me from behind his arm and a curtain of hair. "But…"

"I'll just have to owe you two," I say, poking him in the ribs. "You and I both need all the friends we can get."

He sighs. "You win, McCool." Then he turns to Matt. "We'll be there. But I am not going to snuggle with your brother!"

You know how sometimes a room will go quiet at just the wrong moment? Yeah. Punk's exclamation was louder than the noise in the diner by far. "Um, okay," Matt says. "I wasn't asking you to."

Punk looks at the crowded room, most of whom are staring at us, then bangs his head on the table. "This is all your fault, McCool," he says, just loud enough for us to hear.

"How is it my fault that you don't know how to use your inside voice, Cuddle Monkey?"

"Maybe it's not your fault," he says, "but I'm blaming you, anyway."


	29. Uncomfortable Moments

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 29: Uncomfortable Moments

We were quiet on the plane ride. I'm not sure if Punk is nervous, but I know I am. Matt tries to engage me in conversation, but he finally decides to sleep instead when I snap at him after he asks me for the hundredth time if I'm all right. Punk, across the aisle from me, is sullen behind a pair of dark sunglasses. When we land, neither Punk nor I are in any hurry to get off the plane. Matt finally nudges me and says, "They frown on people who refuse to get off the plane."

"Sorry," I mutter, standing up. The plane's pretty much empty except for the three of us and the flight crew. I grab my carry on bag from the overhead bin, then hand Matt his. Punk's still sitting there, his head tilted so he can look up at me. "Time to go."

I see his eyebrows peek out from behind the dark glasses. "Are you sure I have to do this?"

"We're already here," I point out. "Come on, Punk. Be brave."

He sighs and grabs his bag from beneath his seat, then stands up. Satisfied that he and Matt will follow me, I leave the plane. The flight crew smiles at us as we leave. They're probably glad to see the last of us so they can get the plane cleaned or whatever it is that they do when all of us are gone. Once we're in the tunnel, Matt takes my hand, leaving Punk to trail us through the airport. I try to keep an eye on him, to make sure he doesn't bolt. He's not happy to be here, and he's been sure to let me know that, every chance he gets. He's a good friend, though, because despite his objections, he _is_ here.

Just inside the security checkpoint, Punk puts a hand on my shoulder. "McCool, I need to talk to you a minute."

I frown. "Okay. Give us a minute, Matt?"

"Sure," he says with a shrug. "I'm going to go to the baggage claim. See you guys there." He pulls his hand from mine and heads through the checkpoint.

When he's gone, I turn to Punk. He's still wearing the sunglasses. They look weird on him. "You all right?"

"No," he says.

"What's the matter?"

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

"Punk," I sigh, "it's just a weekend, hanging out with Matt. You guys are cool now."

"It's not Matt that worries me."

"If things are really horrible, you can go," I say. "Matt and I will book you a flight and I'll drive you to the airport myself and you can yell at me the whole way back. Okay?"

Punk slides the glasses down his nose so he can peer at me over them. That makes me smile because he looks so serious. "I should have gone home."

"There's always next weekend." I hug him and whisper, "Thank you for coming with me."

He hugs me back, then disentangles himself. "We don't want to start any rumors on the cusp of your big TV reveal, do we?"

I grin. "Definitely not." Then I steal his sunglasses.

"Hey!" Punk protests.

"We're inside," I say. "You can have them back when we're in the car." He grumbles, but I smirk and saunter through security, leaving him no choice but to follow me.

It doesn't take us long to find the baggage claim. I hear Punk suck in a breath, and I start to turn and ask him what's the matter when I see Matt. He's deep in conversation with his brother. "Michelle?" Punk says. "Did Hardy happen to mention…?"

"No." I stare at the pair of them. They haven't seen us yet. "But there's nothing for it now. Our bags are over there."

Punk glances at me. "Does this count?"

"Count?"

"You said if things were really horrible…"

I turn to frown at him. "No. Ask me again when we get to Matt's house."

Matt catches sight of us just then, and he comes over. Jeff stays with the bags that Matt has already pulled off the conveyor belt. "Hey, guys," he says, his tone apologetic. "Sorry. Uh. I was going to just rent a car, but Jeff…" He shakes his head and offers us a rueful smile. "He wanted to come and get us. I couldn't say no."

"Why not?" Punk asks.

"It'll be fine," I say, eyeing Punk. "Let's get this over with."

Punk sighs and trails Matt and I over to the bags. Jeff smiles at us. "Hey, Michelle." He pauses, and looks past me at Punk. Punk's posture is rigid, and he's got that menacing look on his face. Jeff glances at Matt, then pushes past us, so he and Punk are nearly nose to nose. They're roughly the same height, I notice. "Punk."

"Hardy," Punk says.

There's a really long, uncomfortable moment as they stare one another down. I'm squeezing Matt's hand and wishing that I felt confident enough to get between the two of them and break it up when Jeff breaks into a laugh and offers his hand to Punk. "Glad you decided to come."

Punk frowns and looks at me. I shrug. "Thanks," Punk says, finally taking Jeff's hand. They shake, and then Jeff turns to look at Matt and I.

"Geez, Michelle," he says to me. "You're as white as a sheet. You didn't think we'd get into a fight in the airport, did you?"

"I wasn't sure," I say.

Jeff laughs. "As interesting as that would be, I think they'd kick us out. Come on, we've got a long drive to the house, and I'm sure you guys want to get settled."


	30. Smackdown

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers. My mom says I can't have any until I learn to take care of this goldfish first.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 30: Smackdown

The car ride is less tense than I would have expected. Punk doesn't ask for his sunglasses back, even though Matt and I make him ride up front with Jeff. It doesn't take the two of them long to get into an intense discussion about the fighting techniques used on the MMA circuit and how it compares to what we do. I tune them out, mostly because Matt and I are snuggled together in the backseat. The ride's over before I know it, and Jeff parks in front of Matt's house. "Here you go," he says, turning to look at Matt and I. "Airport to home service."

"Thanks, bro," Matt says. "You staying for Smackdown?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Jeff says with a grin.

We unload the car and Matt shows Punk and I to our rooms. Once we're all settled in, it's just about time for Smackdown to start. We're gathered around the TV with five minutes to spare. Jeff makes popcorn and settles on the couch next to his brother. I'm on Matt's other side, and Punk is in a chair situated at an angle to the couch. The anticipation is heavy in the air. "Oh, here it comes," Matt says, when we get to the part of the show we've all been waiting for. We watch as Matt and I stroll out, hand in hand. The announcers are having fits.

"What is this?" Todd Grisham says. "Is that Michelle McCool, holding Matt Hardy's hand? What is going on here?"

"Matt's obviously decided to date someone who can help his career," Matt Striker says. "I admire him for that."

Matt looks at me and says, "Yeah, that's why." I lean against him, chuckling.

We watch as I sit down to watch the match. "What are they chanting?" I ask.

Jeff is the one who answers, "It sounds like 'What the Hell?'"

"Oh. Right."

The usual "Hardy" chants start up once the match is really under way, and the crowd goes wild once Matt pins McIntyre. We watch as Matt whispers something to me and grabs my hand and we make our exit. McIntyre is going nuts.

"Can you believe that?" Grisham asks.

"McIntyre hates to lose," Striker says.

"I meant Michelle McCool and Matt Hardy," says Grisham, shaking his head. "That was unbelievable, but I saw it with my own eyes."

"I'd heard rumors that they were spending some time together backstage," Striker says. "It shouldn't surprise you when superstars and divas get close to one another. They travel a lot, and it's hard to meet someone outside of the ring."

"You're listening to backstage gossip?"

"Of course. It's always smart to keep your eyes and ears open." There's a pause. "Well, folks, Wrestlemania is only three weeks away. The matches are going to be intense." As they show the matches that are already set, Matt turns to me.

"We're going to have to do a promo on Tuesday. You know that, right?"

I grin. "I'm looking forward to it."

"It's going to be one intense show," Punk mutters. "I'm officially starting my feud with Rey Mysterio on Tuesday."

"This is going to be the best Wrestlemania ever," I say with a laugh.

Matt hugs me. "Definitely," he says.

We watch the rest of Smackdown, but not as intently as we'd watched Matt's match. When the show's over, I excuse myself to my room. I'm completely exhausted by the past few days and all the stress is catching up to me. I can barely keep my eyes open. I curl up in my bed and am almost asleep when I hear a soft knock at my door. "Come in," I say, snuggling down into the soft bed with a sigh.

A moment later, Punk peeks around the door at me. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asks.

"Sure," I say, sitting up. "Come on in. What's up?"

He hesitates in the doorway, then comes in, closing the door softly behind him. "It's about Tuesday."

"What about it?"

He grabs the chair that's near the bed and sits, his gaze on me. "We're friends, Michelle."

"Uh oh," I say. "That doesn't sound good."

Punk smiles ruefully. "Here's the thing. The closer we get to Wrestlemania, the harder it is for me to concentrate on anything else. I know that Layla just abandoned you because of what you and Matt have. I don't want you to think that I'm doing the same, but we're not going to be able to hang out as much for a while. So if we're backstage and I choose to spend time with the straightedge society instead of you, it's not personal. We're still friends, and I don't abandon my friends. Ever."

"I understand," I say. And I really do. Things start to get intense right before Wrestlemania. Weeks of storylines start to build up and it becomes all consuming. "I would never expect you to put work matters on hold because of our friendship."

He looks relieved. "Thank you. And thanks for dragging me out here this weekend. You were right. This is what I needed."

I smirk. "But after Wrestlemania, we're going to hang out again, right?"

"Sure," he says. "Maybe we can even get a storyline eventually and you can join the straightedge society."

I smack him on the arm. "In your dreams, Cuddle Monkey!"

Punk laughs. "In my dreams, everyone's straightedge." He winks at me, then stands up. "Stay strong, sunshine. And at the Wrestlemania after party, you owe me a dance."

"Sounds good to me," I say. He turns to leave. "Oh, Punk?"

"Hmm?"

I lean over and grab his sunglasses off the table. "Here."

He takes them and puts them on, then looks at me. "How do I look?"

"Like an idiot?"

He smirks. "Perfect. That's the look I was going for. Goodnight, sunshine."

"See you tomorrow, Cuddle Monkey."


	31. Promo

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 31: Promo

It was a great weekend. The guys hung out and bonded. I spent a lot of time with Jeff's girlfriend, Beth, while the three of them goofed off or wrestled or rode motorcycles. Sometimes, one of Matt or Jeff's friends would drop by and we'd have a shift in the dynamic between them, but it would even out after a few minutes. I got a hug from Helms when he dropped in, which was great. But all good things eventually come to an end, and by the time we found ourselves at the next hotel on Tuesday, Matt, Punk and I were ready to get back to work. We parted ways on the third floor of the hotel. I dropped my stuff off in my room and went to find Matt. Punk told us on the way in that he'd be catching a ride to the taping with Gallows and Serena, so we shouldn't wait for him. I hoped he'd figured out what was going on with Gallows, and that our weekend would give him some clarity. I know I certainly gained some from it.

Matt and I grabbed some food on the way into the arena, and took it to my locker room to eat. As promised, Layla was nowhere to be found. I had a match later, though, so I expected I'd be seeing her. I wasn't all that hungry; my stomach was knotted up, just thinking about Layla and having to walk to the ring with her and Vickie and pretend like everything was okay. But even before that, we had the promo to do. When we'd finished eating, I went out to the area where the promos were being shot and got set up to shoot. We were rolling in no time.

"Michelle McCool," Josh Matthews said, once the camera was rolling. "Last week, you came out holding hands with Matt Hardy for his Money in the Bank qualifying match with Drew McIntyre. The whole WWE Universe has been buzzing about it ever since. Can you tell me what was going through your head last week?"

I smile at the camera. "The same thing that's going through my head this week, Josh."

"And what is that?" Josh asks.

Matt steps into the shot then and puts his arm around me. Josh has a stunned look on his face. "I was thinking it would be nice to accompany my boyfriend down to the ring and watch his match," I say. Matt grins at the camera and kisses my head.

"I'm glad you were down there with me," Matt adds. "It gave me an extra incentive to win my match last week."

The camera is shut off, and Matt and I head back to the locker room. "Are you coming down with me tonight?"

He shakes his head. "Creative asked me not to. You're going out there with Vickie and Layla, as usual. I'm sure they'll show me watching backstage, though."

I sigh, but in a way, I'm relieved. The less they show of him and Layla on camera together, the better.

The time until my match passes quickly as I get ready. Matt and I watch Punk's interruption of Rey Mysterio's family celebration, including Punk's badly sung happy birthday to Mysterio's daughter. "Wow," Matt says, "remind me not to let him lead the sing along at Christmas."

I'm half tempted to head to catering after Punk's sing-along, but then I remember our talk and I decide to let him be. Besides, I have my own match to get ready for tonight. The promo I did with Matt airs after the sing-along, anyway, so we stay in my locker room and watch that.

Before I know it, I'm kissing Matt goodbye and heading down to the ring. I meet Vickie and Layla just before my music hits and we have to head out. The match with Tiffany starts with me yelling and doing push ups and basically being a pain. Once we get down to blows, though, I notice something. Layla seems way more focused on Tiffany than on me. At one point, when we're all outside of the ring, Layla's yelling, "Get her! Who do you think you are?" but she's looking at Tiffany and pointing at me. I doubt anyone but me notices, as it's at that point that Vickie steps forward and pushes Tiffany, thus ending the match. I'm disqualified due to outside interference, but that doesn't stop me from screaming insults at Tiffany and forcing her back into the ring until Beth Phoenix shows up to chase team Lay-Cool off.

I don't speak to Layla, but Vickie says to me, "That was fun," once we're backstage.

"It wasn't too bad," I agree, and then Matt's there, putting his arms around me. I grin up at him. "Hey you."

"See you later," Vickie says, waving at me.

I wave back. "So now what?" I ask Matt.

"Catering?" he asks. "Or we can head out, since there's nothing else we need to do tonight."

I shrug. "We should finish watching the show," I say. "Besides, I need a shower."

Matt leads me back to my locker room, where we watch Gallows, who happens to be in the ring with Kane. Punk and Serena are ringside. "I don't like that guy," Matt says, as we watch the match.

"Which one?"

"I meant Gallows," he says. "I don't mind Punk so much anymore. Serena certainly seems cozy with him. Are they dating?"

I glance at Matt. "Didn't you guys talk about that?"

"He wouldn't talk about Serena. Or Gallows, for that matter." Matt pauses. "Except the things that he said last week, of course, about thinking Gallows is against him and looking to take over the straightedge society."

I nod. "He seldom talks about them, except on camera. I think it's kind of like Team Lay-Cool right now. They're united onscreen, but offscreen, it's chaos."

"She plays it pretty well," Matt says, indicating Serena.

"Yeah." We're quiet as Punk jumps into the ring and interferes with the match by landing a go to sleep on Kane. At the end of it, Rey Mysterio comes out from the back. The action becomes fast and furious as Rey and Punk exchange blows. It ends when Rey being held back while Punk runs for the back. "I'm going to jump in the shower."

"Okay," Matt says, smiling. "I'll meet you in catering."


	32. Food Fight

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers, and my goldfish ran away. :( (No actual goldfish were harmed in the making of this fic.)

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 32: Food Fight

I'm already in catering when a freshly showered straightedge society show up. Matt and I are snuggled together at one of the tables. We watch as Punk and his cohorts select their usual table, near the back of the room. They're deep in conversation, though Punk does look up and smile my way once or twice.

"You all right?" Matt asks me.

"Hmm?"

"You've been quiet all night."

I sigh. "I guess. It seems so weird back here right now."

"Howso?"

"Have you noticed that everyone keeps staring at us, but no one ever comes up and says anything?" I ask.

Matt smiles. "They're still getting used to us being together, Michelle. You have to admit, it was kind of surprising. Most of them haven't had as much time as we have to really get used to the idea."

"Are your friends treating you differently?"

"Some of them," he admits. "Though you seem to have the worst of it." He glances over at Punk, then back to me. "Wrestlemania is only three weeks away. After that, everything will start to go back to normal, and creative will be begging to use our relationship more onscreen. And who knows? Maybe Punk will resolve whatever it is that's going on in the straightedge society and you can fix things with Layla?"

"I somehow doubt Layla will want to fix things with me. Not so long as you and I are together, anyway."

"Well, that's one thing I don't plan to have changed at Wrestlemania," Matt says firmly.

I smile at him. "Good. I hope you'll stick around for a long time."

"Oh, believe me," he says, leaning over the table to kiss me, "I plan to."

"Some of us are trying to eat!" I hear from the next table over, and then Matt and I are pelted with a handful of salad.

I look up to see Morrison smirking at us, while the Miz looks innocent. "Nice," I tell the Miz. "You come to my show and start a food fight?"

"I didn't do it," the Miz says.

"Sure," Matt begins, but I grab my own handful of salad and walk to their table, then rain it down on Miz's head.

Matt laughs and the Miz growls, "Oh, you're so dead!" at me and picks up his tray. I scramble away from him, laughing and yelling, "Protect me!" to Matt. That's how Matt comes to be between me and the tray when Miz tosses the food from it. Matt's covered, and I end up with some of it on me. I catch a glance of Punk and the straightedge society. Gallows and Serena look disgusted, but Punk looks alarmed. He's rising from his seat when Morrison catches me and dumps his food on me.

The rest is a blur, right up until Jericho and Edge show up. "What the hell is going on back here?" Jericho roars.

We stop. The room is a disaster. I look around at the mess and then up at Jericho, who's glaring at me. "I slipped?" I offer.

"McCool," Jericho growls. "Do you have any idea how much trouble we're all going to get in if this room looks like this when we leave tonight?" He glares around the room. "I can see who the culprits are. You four, get to work. The rest of you, out. Obviously, I have to babysit you because I can't trust you unsupervised." Edge gives Jericho an amused look, grabs a water bottle, and heads out of catering with the rest of the superstars. When they've filed out, there are six of us left. Jericho, Matt, Miz, Morrison, myself and Punk. "Did you need something, Punk?" Jericho says, sounding more weary now that everyone else is gone.

Punk hesitates, then shakes his head. "Just heading out for the night." Though the words are directed at Jericho, his eyes are on me and Matt.

"Yeah, fine, good luck with that," Jericho grumbles. Once Punk's gone, Jericho says, "You four are trouble." He settles on a relatively clean bench. "Get to cleaning."

Normally, I'd protest, but all three guys just shrug and start cleaning up the mess so I jump in and help. It takes half an hour, but by the time we're done, catering looks fantastic. "How's that?" Matt asks Jericho.

Jericho looks around, then turns to us. "Good. Let that be a lesson to you." He stands up and heads for the door. "No more food fights. Troublemakers." I catch a look at his face as he says the last and realize he's smiling.

"Why do I get the feeling that you guys have done this before?" I ask Matt.

He grins. "The ECW food fights were legendary." He smacks Morrison on the shoulder and shoots the Miz a mock glare.

Miz smirks at me. "If you'd ever come out of your locker room, you'd know that. But you're usually so busy being snobby…"

"Hey!" I protest.

Matt leans over and musses the Miz's hair. Or he would muss it, if it weren't gelled within an inch of its life. "That's cute, Mizzy. You're like the pot calling the kettle black."

"You're lucky I don't want to clean any more tonight," Miz says, "or you'd be wearing leftovers. Again."

Matt looks down at his clothes. "I need a shower."

"You're just now noticing that?" Morrison asks, laughing. "Geez, Matt. Way to be observant."

Watching them, I feel kind of left out. They're obviously friends, and I never really realized it. Matt and I have been spending so much time together that he's not had much time for his friends outside of me. I mean, I know he has other friends, but I'm not sure who they are. That's something I plan to remedy as soon as possible.


	33. Reconciliation

A/N: Skipping ahead again. It's time we get to the big stuff.

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 33: Reconciliation

Wrestlemania. Every year, we look forward to it. Every year, it seems like it takes forever to get here and then one day, it's time. We spend the whole week leading up to the main event, doing various activities. I love the excitement that goes through the whole company when it's time to head for the biggest stage of them all. I've had weeks of Matt and I together, getting to know his friends and family. I'm starting to feel like they accept me, and maybe even like me. We've been spending so much time together that I've started to believe that maybe we are connected at the hip, as everyone keeps teasing. I've barely seen Punk in all of this. He seems to have resolved his differences with the straightedge society, which is good, but I kind of miss having him around. Layla's still ignoring me, except when we're in the ring. Aside from Matt and his friends, I feel lonely. Luckily for me, I'm never away from them for long.

Everyone is in Arizona. There isn't a guy or girl in the company who isn't staying at the hotel and hanging out together in certain social places. We all have our favorite bars, restaurants and gyms. It's a fun week. Matt and I do a couple of Fan Axxess sessions together, holding hands and taking pictures and generally having a great time. Punk's at one of them, doing a question and answer session with the straightedge society. I sneak over and listen to him for a bit. He sounds completely arrogant, like the heel C. M. Punk you see on TV every week instead of the Cuddle Monkey that I know.

I don't stick around for the match after the questions. Instead, I head back to where Matt is still talking to some fans and I take his hand. He smiles at me, and says to them, "Well, it was nice meeting you." Then he pulls me away, toward the door. "You ready to go to the Hall of Fame ceremony?"

"Sure," I say, shrugging. We walk out to the parking area and get our car, then Matt drives us the eight blocks or so to the next venue. The streets are crowded with people and bicycle cabs. I'm glad Matt's driving.

"So did you see Punk?" he asks, while we're waiting at a light.

"Watched his q and a for a bit."

Matt nods. "You didn't go back and say hi, though?"

"No."

He's staring into traffic when he says, "He told me about the talk you guys had at the house."

"When was this?"

Matt shrugs. "I ran into him in the lobby yesterday. We had to do the menacing pose thing for a tourist." He chuckles. "And then pose for pictures. But after that, I pulled him aside and asked what was up with him."

I sigh. "It's fine, really."

"You've been moping," Matt says.

"I have not!"

"You have."

I glare at him. "I don't have to be always on, you know. Sometimes, quiet is nice."

"I know. But there's a difference between quiet and that far off look you get sometimes. It's okay to miss your friends, Michelle."

"Even when you still see them every day?" I ask, thinking of Layla.

"Don't worry," Matt says. "Tomorrow night is Wrestlemania. After that, the craziness will settle down and Punk will have time to hang out with us again. At least until next year."

"Is it bad that I wish it was over already?"

"Do you?" he asks. "For me, it's like Christmas. I can't believe we're almost there."

Normally, I'd agree with him, but this year? It's been too stressful. "It's been grueling this time. It's like if you lose a beloved family member right around the holidays. That year, the festivities are tainted for you."

"Well, try to have some fun tonight," Matt says with a smile. "I know I'm going to, because I'll be there with the prettiest girl in the whole place."

"Aw!" I scooted so I could lean my head against his shoulder. "I'll try not to be so down tonight. It's just the pre-festivities blues, that's all. You watch, tomorrow, I'm going to be all over this thing."

Matt slips his arm around me. "It's okay," he says. "I think we all get that way from time to time."

We pull into the parking structure and gather up our things. It's not a long walk from the car to the theater, but scores of people are arriving. We're early, but so is just about everyone else. Matt leads me backstage, so we can get changed. Most of his friends are already back there. I wave to Miz and Morrison, then head for the ladies room.

Layla's there. She glances at me, then makes a face. "Nice to see you, too," I say.

"Don't talk to me."

I sigh. "Layla, I don't get it. We've been friends a long time. Why can't you just be happy for me? I miss hanging out with you."

She says, "Obviously, you don't, or you'd have dumped him by now."

"I'm not going to dump him."

There's a long moment where we're looking at one another in the mirror, our gazes caught. Finally, she sighs and looks away. "I… " Then she shakes her head. "He's against everything we've ever stood for, Michelle. He's a loser."

"No, he isn't. I'm sorry you can't see that." I start for the door. I can find somewhere else to change.

"Michelle."

My hand is on the door. "What?"

Layla sighs again. "Don't expect me to hang out with him. I don't like Hardy. But you're my best friend, and… and I just can't do this anymore."

I turn to look at her, and she's holding her arms out. "Huh?"

"I'm still your friend," Layla says. "If you don't hate me for being such a bitch lately, that is."

I can't help the grin that's spreading across my face. "I don't hate you." We hug. "Hey, maybe we can plan another girl's weekend soon."

"Please," Layla says, rolling her eyes. "You were such a pill at the last one."

Laughing, I say, "I'll try to be better, I promise."

"Me too," she says, "although I'm not going to promise. I'll try my best to tolerate Hardy, but…" She smirks at me. "You know I can barely tolerate Punk. Hardy's something else entirely."

"As long as you try," I say, "that's what matters."

We change and head back into the main area together. When I rejoin Matt, he says, "You look like you feel better."

"I do. Layla and I just made up."

Matt hugs me. "Good for you!" he says with a smile.


	34. Wrestlemania!

A/N: There's a lot going on in this chapter. Hopefully, it's not too choppy.

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 34: Wrestlemania!

We've been at the University of Phoenix for most of the morning. It's now edging toward showtime, and I'm feeling nervous. Before the show starts, we get our final instructions. Team Lay-Cool is looking awesome, and we're all talking and laughing. Matt gives me a good luck kiss, but then he has to go and hang out with the rest of the Money in the Bank guys, since they're up before us. I watch with my team backstage. Every match is amazing. I wince every time Matt falls or gets slammed in his match. It feels like I'm wincing a lot.

"Geez, Michelle," Vickie teases, "you look like you're the one taking the hits out there."

"I feel like it, too," I mutter, and Layla smirks.

"He'll be fine," Vickie says. "You know wrestlers. They could break their necks and they'd want to walk it off."

I know Matt's not going to win, but it's still an amazing match. When it's over, he comes back and finds me. "Good match," I say, giving him a kiss.

"Thanks, Michelle." Matt grins, but he looks utterly exhausted. We find a quiet corner to watch the next couple matches in. Punk and Rey Mysterio are up finally, and Matt and I are both greatly amused by Punk's antics. He loses, of course. "Guess it's up to you to win one for Team Adorkable," Matt says.

"Oh, I'll win, all right," I say.

We're up after Jericho and Edge. It's a weird place to put a Diva match, but that's where they put it. So when Jericho and Edge head out, I give Matt one last kiss and head for the staging area. "Nervous?" Layla asks me.

"No, I'm good," I say. "You?"

Vickie says, "I am. You know how much I hate doing splashes."

Layla and I grin at her. "You'll be fine," Layla says.

Pretty soon, Jericho and Edge are walking past us. "Good luck, ladies," Jericho says. "And McCool, no food fights tonight, eh? I'm not up to it."

I laugh. "I'll be on my best behavior, I promise."

When our music starts, I'm ready. We come out to boos. It's loud in the arena, and that crowd is huge. The match has some good back and forth, though the highlight is when we help Vickie do her splash and she points to the sky in tribute to Eddie. The crowd quits booing us for that brief moment. And then, of course, they resume when we pull it out and beat the other team. It doesn't matter what the crowd is doing; it still feels great to be out there.

I can't believe it. I'm done with another great Wrestlemania. It's an amazing night, and there's so much more to come. We head backstage, and I find Matt again. He's waiting for me with a bottle of water and a huge smile. "Good job!" he says, grabbing me up in a hug.

We're already celebrating, despite the fact that the event isn't over yet. Back in the locker room, the monitor is on and John Cena is battling it out with Batista. We keep an eye on the match, though it's not the one that everyone here is waiting to see. Finally, Cena wins and it gets quiet. Everyone backstage has been waiting for this moment. Shawn Michaels is about to wrestle his last match.

At some point during the match, Matt gets up from the couch and wanders off for something. I'm completely engrossed in what's going on on the screen. I notice when he leaves, and I'm half waiting for him to come back, but the match itself has most of my attention. I'm so engrossed that I don't notice who's in the room and who isn't.

When Shawn Michaels tells the Undertaker to end it, Matt's still not back. The room is deadly silent as the Undertaker gets the three count. His record stands, and the celebratory feeling backstage is now more somber as we listen to the crowd. It starts slow, but it builds up, and even in the locker room, I can hear the echoes of the words, "Thank you, Shawn."

I turn to say something to Matt and realize he's not there. Neither is Layla, though she comes back through the door a moment after I notice. "Hey, have you seen Matt?"

"He's in the hallway," she says with a shrug. "Match is over, huh?"

"Yeah." I sigh. "It's going to seem so weird not having Shawn on Monday nights."

"We barely ever saw him, anyway," she answers. "But I know what you mean."

I hug Layla, and say, "I'm going to go find Matt."

"Good idea. I'll see you at the party, right?"

"Sure." The thought of the party makes me smile. "I promised Punk a dance, anyway."

Layla chuckles. "Hope your boyfriend is okay with that."

"They're cool," I say. "Anyway, see you there." I step out the door. Matt's down the hall; I can see him, head down and deep in thought. I walk toward him. "Hey, Matt."

He lifts his head and looks at me, and for a moment, I can't place the expression on his face. Then it dawns on me. He looks like he's in pain. "Michelle."

"Are you okay?" I ask, rushing to his side. "What's the matter?"

He shakes my hand off and his gaze burns into me. "Michelle, I…" He looks away and takes a deep breath. "I love you so much that it hurts. This is tearing me up inside."

"What is? Matt, what's wrong?"

His eyes are full of tears when he raises them again. "I know everything."


	35. The Walls Fall

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 35: The Walls Fall

"Wh-What?" I stutter.

Matt stares up at the ceiling as he talks. "I had something special planned for tonight, at the party. I was going to ask you to move in with me. I was so glad to see that you and Layla made up earlier so I told her my plans. She told me that we needed to talk, and when the Shawn Michaels match started, she followed me out into the hallway. She told me not to make a fool of myself, that now that Wrestlemania was over, you were going to dump me because all of this was some stupid bet that the two of you made a couple months ago. How you bet her that you could get me to fall for you. Well, you win, Michelle." He looks at me, and I can see how hurt and angry he is. "You win. So congratulations to you." With that, he pushes away from the wall and turns toward the main locker room.

"Matt, wait!" I say, hurrying to catch up with him. "It's not like that."

"Isn't it?" he asks, turning to glare at me. "Because it makes sense. You and Punk, hanging out together all the time. Probably making fun of me behind my back. Your fight with Layla. That was to put me at ease, wasn't it? You never cared at all about me; I was just some poor sap, a means to an end. What did winning get you, Michelle? Was it worth the pain you caused me? I sure hope so. I hope it was worth the sleepless nights I'm going to have. Was I ever anything to you but a bet?" He stalks away from me.

"Matt," I say. "Matt! Damn it, it's not like that!" I chase after him. "I love you, Matt!"

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"What, by spending every waking minute with you? Yeah, I guess that's a funny way to show it!"

"Whatever, Michelle. You may have fooled me for all these weeks, but I don't have the wool pulled over my eyes any more, do I? She told me everything, including how you conspired to get Maria fired."

I bit my lip. "I didn't."

"Why would I believe anything you say?" he asks.

"Why would you believe Layla?"

"Layla's never made a secret of how she feels about me. You've done nothing but lie to me from the start!" He turns back to me and meets my eyes. "Stay away from me. Don't talk to me. Pretend I don't exist, because as of right now, you no longer exist in my world, McCool. As far as I'm concerned, you're a horrible mistake that I was saved from making by someone I don't even like. So tell Layla thanks for me, and then forget I ever cared about you. I'm sure that won't be hard for a cold hearted, shallow bitch like you."

He walks away, and I stand in the hallway and watch him go. What else can I do? It's over, ruined by my own stupidity. I had a thousand chances to tell him the truth and instead, I stupidly ignored it and hoped it would go away, that none of my friends would ever say a word. I can feel the tears on my face, but I'm numb inside. It doesn't hurt. What does that mean? I walk back to my locker room and Layla looks up at me, concern on her face. "Hey, Michelle, are you okay?"

"Why did you tell Matt?" I ask her, sliding down on the couch.

Her expression changes. "I'm sorry. He told me that he was planning on asking you to move in with him, and I thought… Well, you know. He might not be as into you as you were into him. And this proves it, doesn't it? If he really loved you, none of this would have mattered to him. He would have stayed. But he didn't, did he?"

"No," I whisper. "He didn't."

She hands me a tissue. "Just tell people you're sad to see Shawn Michaels go, and no one will question the tears."

"What are you talking about?"

"The party, of course!"

"Layla, I'm not going to the party."

"What? But we always go to the party!"

"I don't really feel like going, okay?"

Layla sighs. "God, Michelle. He's just some guy. A complete loser. So he dumped you. So what? You'll have another guy by the end of the week."

She doesn't get it, and I know why she doesn't. Up until Matt, I was the same as Layla. One guy could always be replaced by another. She's never actually loved any of them, so she's never felt heartbreak crushing her lungs and making her want to curl up in a ball and die. "I just want to go to the hotel." I pause, as something dawns on me. "And I don't have a ride."

Layla rolls her eyes. "Whatever. I'm going to the party. Ask Punk to take you back. He won't care. It's not like he likes these parties."

Punk. Layla's right. He'll take me back to the hotel if I ask. "I'm going to go find Punk."

"Good idea."

I leave my locker room and head for catering. Hopefully, he'll be there. My heart twists as I think about Matt also being there, and everyone else, but I push the thought away. I can't think about anything but finding Punk right now.


	36. No Such Thing

A/N: I don't own the Wrestlers.

Dirty Deeds

A WWE Fanfic

CH 36: No Such Thing

In the end, Punk finds me. I don't make it to catering. I end up in a bathroom, halfway there, sick to my stomach. It's as I'm sitting with my head against the cool wall of the stall, wondering if you can die from a broken heart that Punk sticks his head into the bathroom. "McCool? Are you in here?" For a split second, I think about staying quiet. I don't want to talk to him, or anyone else, for that matter.

I sigh. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Thank God," he says, coming into the bathroom and closing the door. "I've been looking everywhere for you." He steps up to the stall door. "Are you okay?"

"Not really."

I hear him shifting around out there. "Are you decent?"

I laugh, but it sounds like a sob. "Was I ever decent?"

Punk sighs and slides down onto the floor outside the stall. I can see that he's sitting out there, his back against the frame, legs outstretched. "I ran into Hardy in catering. He told me what happened."

"Oh."

"And then I went to your locker room and Layla said you'd gone off looking for me, since you wanted to go to the hotel and didn't have a ride."

"Yeah."

It's quiet then. If I couldn't still see him out there, I'd think he was gone. "I'm sorry," he says finally.

"What for?"

"For not stopping you from making this mistake?" Punk shrugs. "Why Hardy, anyway?"

"Because," I say, "he's a nice guy."

Punk laughs. "Seems like a great guy right now, huh?" I muffle a sob. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, Michelle. That was insensitive of me. I'm a stupid jerk, just ignore me."

"I hate this! Layla said he'd turn on me when he found out who I really was, and she was right."

"Michelle," Punk sighs, "you made the mistake of dating someone who doesn't understand the real person you are. It's not that he's a nice guy. These so called nice guys don't exist. We're all one stupid moment away from being jerks. The difference is, some guys will stick by you when it happens, and some won't. You never know which one you've got until that moment comes."

"I guess I know now."

"Yeah. So, um, are you going to come out of there?"

"No, I'm good."

Punk says, "Look, I'm sure it's a nice cubicle and all, but the hotel's nicer. You can sit in your hotel bathroom and not worry about catching God knows what from the floor. I'm not even sure they've cleaned in here this month."

"I appreciate the thought, but I said I'm good."

"Okay, if you won't think of yourself, then think of me. I'm sitting on the floor in a ladies room, staring at a machine that dispenses… um… Well, let's not go there. And if anyone walks in, I'm going to look like a pervert and a stalker."

I can't help but smile at the image. "Okay, Punk," I sigh. "I'll come out, and you can take me to the hotel." I frown. "What about Gallows and Serena?"

"They caught a ride with someone."

"Oh?"

Punk says, "When your best friend is in trouble, do you worry about your own problems, or do you tell the straightedge society to take a hike?"

I'm strangely touched by the sentiment. "You told them to take a hike for me?"

"Of course not," he says. "I want to wake up alive tomorrow. They told me they didn't need a ride after my match." I step out of the stall and he looks up at me for a moment before pushing himself to his feet. "Thanks for coming out, sunshine."

"Sure," I say, and then I burst into tears again.

Punk's right there, though, and he pulls me into his arms. "Hey, shh, it's going to be okay, Michelle."

"No it's not! He hates me! He never wants to talk to me again!"

Punk mutters, "Then he's a complete fool."

"I'm the fool," I say.

"I'm not going to argue with you." Punk frowns at me, then pulls a pair of sunglasses from his jacket pocket. "Here."

I slide them on. "I look like an idiot."

"They're magical like that," he says. "Whoever wears them looks like an idiot. But at least no one can tell your make up's smeared."

"Thanks."

"Sure." He takes my hand. "Now what do you say we get you to the privacy of your own room, where you can have whatever breakdown you're going to have in peace?"

"Okay."

He leads me through the hallways of the backstage. I'm glad he's got my hand because it means I don't have to keep my eyes open. I let them close and I listen to the voices as Punk steers us through low traffic areas. Finally, the cool outside air touches my skin. "We're almost there," he tells me. He's been mostly quiet this whole walk, sometimes muttering to himself or to me, and once or twice telling someone he'd talk to them later. But we never once stopped until we reached the car. He unlocks my door first and I slide in, leaning back against the seat. Punk shuts my door, then goes to his side and gets in. "You all right?"

"Fine," I sigh, not really caring that it's not true.

"Okay," Punk says. When he turns the car on, the radio's on low. I don't know the song. I never know any of the songs that Punk's playing. He doesn't sing along, so I don't know if he knows them, either. Every so often, I can feel his gaze on me, but he never says a word.

When we reach the hotel, I get out of the car. "Thanks for the ride."

"I'll walk you up."

"No," I say, "it's all right. You go ahead to the party. I'm sure they're expecting you."

"I hate those things," he says. "I'm not going to go."

I frown at him. "You were going to go."

He shrugs. "You won't be there. I won't have any fun, watching everyone else drink. I'm sure Hardy's got half the roster angry by now, and I don't want to walk into the middle of that."

"Me either," I admit. "But, um, about that dance… I don't really…"

"Some other time, perhaps," he says. "Come on. We're on the same floor, and I'm heading for my room, anyway."

What else can I do? We go inside and catch the elevator. At my room door, I say, "Thanks, Punk. You're a good friend."

"Yeah." He hugs me. "Get some sleep, sunshine. Things will look better in the morning."

I frown. "How do you know?"

"They always do," he says, turning to walk to his room, "when you know the right people." He pauses before his door and adds, "Keep the sunglasses. They look good on you."

I touch the frames on my face and turn to tell him thanks, but he's already gone into his room. The door closes softly in his wake, and I'm alone in the hall. I smile and open my door, knowing that no matter what happens, I don't have to face it alone. Punk is my friend, and he's never let me down yet.

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A/N: Although this is the end of this fic, it's not the end of the story! Something To Believe In, the Punk-centric fic that follows this one will be posted up tonight. And before you guys kill me for breaking up Team Adorkable… Keep in mind that the path to true love doesn't always fun smooth and that things always work out how they're meant to eventually. Thanks for reading Dirty Deeds! I have enjoyed the reviews immensely. :D


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